


Watercolor the Summer Sky

by ficteer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Drama, Dry Humping, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Sexting, abe generally being confused about mihashi, flour going in places it doesn't belong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year and the mound beneath his pitcher's feet hasn't changed. One summer and perhaps everything else will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bird in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Well........this is my "It's About Time I Write A Serious Oofuri Fic" fic, featuring abemiha and Abe's confusion about just how gay Mihashi is for him. I am going to try and be a SUPER SERIOUS AUTHOR and update this every weekend so you all have explicit permission to nag me on Sunday afternoon if I haven't updated.
> 
> I don't own Oofuri, though there are a couple of first year OCs that are mine later on.

One year, Abe thought. His toes kicked into the dirt beneath his feet, the cleats of his shoes catching and making dust rise to flirt with his ankles before settling back down in the heat of the incoming summer. He looked to the mound before him, to the pitcher standing in command at its height, the silent strength written in every muscle in Mihashi Ren’s back as he talks with Tajima in that broken chirping of his. One year. He brought his eyes across the infield, where the grass of the outfield was now kept clean, to the places on the edges where the school had finally budgeted for lighting on the field.

One year ago, his whole world had changed.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to today, and he could tell from its weight and pressure even before looking that it was Momoe. He kept his gaze on the figures running around the field in laps, eyes no longer seeing the past, but rather the future, and every thread of possibility it held. A future of victory and Koushien.

“Well, what do you think?” Momoe asked, and Abe nodded lightly while crossing his arms. She’d instructed him to keep watch on the new first years coming in for signs of talent, and there was no mistake that their success the previous year had attracted the attention needed for that to happen. “There are a couple of good ones. We’re pretty lucky.”

Yes, Abe agreed silently. One year ago, only ten people had flocked to the baseball field to join the team. Today, there were at least thirty, fueled by the success of their elders and thirsty for the victory that had splashed the school newspaper for months on end. They’d have to wait to see more of the incoming talent to know if there was going to be serious competition for the regular slots, given the rigorous training the original ten had undergone to get them so far, but Abe was eager to do just that.

Momoe called an end to the practice as soon as the first years running around the field collapsed by the dugout. Abe followed just behind her and eyes took in the physical condition of each of the first years for signs of good cardiac performance. A few were breathing too hard and wouldn’t make the cut, but a few were just barely using shoulders to take in each breath. A glance at Shinooka confirmed that she was writing down notes on exactly what he was seeing, and when she looked up, she clicked her pen shut and nodded with a smile. He’d be getting a copy of everything she was writing down to go over with Hanai and Sakaeguchi, then to give to Momoe, no doubt.

As soon as the first years had caught their breath, Momoe stepped forward and addressed them all with her familiar authoritative boom. “Thank you all for coming out! We’ve clearly got some good blood going on here, but you’ll find out tomorrow for sure how the rankings will fall out. Make sure to check the board in the lobby tomorrow for a list of the cuts, and we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for your first practice if you make it! All right, go get cleaned up and rest well tonight!”

“Abe-kun.” Abe looked over and, sure enough, Shinooka was handing her clipboard over to him. He took it with a word of thanks, skimming over each note on the players that she’d taken over the last couple of hours. “I’ll make copies and send it to you in an email tonight, so you and Hanai-kun and Sakaeguchi-kun can go over it during lunch tomorrow,” she said before taking the clipboard back.

“That’s perfect. Thanks, Shinooka,” Abe said before giving her a smile. She nodded, then turned on her heel and bee-lined to Hanai, most likely to tell him the same thing. Exhaling, Abe looked around for that familiar mop of blond hair, and he spotted it on the edge of the dugout, unsurprisingly next to Tajima. 

“We’ve got some good players coming in, huh, Abe?” Tajima said when Abe got close enough for them to have a normal conversation, leaning over the edge of the dugout in as high of spirits as ever. “I was telling Mihashi about that one cleanup hitter. Hanai’s going to strictly have to step up his game!”

“I’m… going to work hard, too…!” Mihashi added, eyes wide as he met Abe’s gaze. “There’s… a good pitcher, too…” 

“Oh, yeah,” Abe replied. He briefly remembered seeing something in Shinooka’s notes about someone who had been the ace pitcher at their middle school. It was about time Mihashi had some quality competition. “Well, your problem is not to work _too_ hard. Did you already stretch out?” 

Mihashi shook his head, and Tajima flashed a grin in Abe’s direction. “He told me he wanted to wait for you.” Mihashi nodded, and Abe fought the sigh that was threatening to pour out of his lips. He had been looking forward to taking a shower as soon as the freshman had gotten out and going home to an early bedtime, but it appeared luck would not be on his side. He gestured for Mihashi to follow him out to the side of the bullpen where they could stretch, though he supposed he was probably putting on more of a show of being irritated than he actually felt.

“All right. Let’s go,” Abe called, turning his back to the other two but hearing the smile on Mihashi’s face in the bright tone in which he agreed. Abe pressed his lips together firmly to keep his own smile down, because the _last_ thing Mihashi needed to know was just how little Abe was able to tell that smile and those sparkling eyes anything but ‘yes’. It was bad enough when Mihashi subconsciously used those against him; the boy would be downright _dangerous_ if he knew of and applied his abilities. Abe pressed hard, then slowly turned to see Mihashi just behind him, eyes wide and focused on his back. “Did you at least stretch out your arm?”

“Ah, yes, right after I pitched,” Mihashi nodded. He was practically glowing. It was probably because he did something before being asked, Abe figured, gesturing for Mihashi to sit down. As soon as the pitcher was in position, Abe lifted his hands and pushed down on Mihashi’s shoulders, eyes watching every bend of Mihashi’s muscles. It was astounding how flexible Mihashi was, he thought, always pushing just a little bit further than he would with anyone else and still not being met with any resistance at all. All he got was Mihashi’s quick murmur about his practice, almost incomprehensible, about what pitches he tossed and which batters he found intimidating out of the incoming first years.

“How do you feel about that one pitcher?” Abe asked suddenly, holding Mihashi’s hand behind his back and pushing his body forward for a deep side stretch. From this angle, he could see the brief cloud come over Mihashi’s eyes, but as soon as hazel flicked back to his face and they were holding a stare, Abe felt the blossom of pleasure in his chest as he saw nothing but self-confidence.

“I’ll work hard… to pitch to you!” Mihashi stated, and Abe had to forcibly bite down on his tongue to keep the grin off his face. “B-Because, there’s a new catcher, but he’s… not as good as Abe-kun! So… Abe-kun will still be number two.”

“Oh?” Abe hummed, then switched Mihashi to the other side. “And what if the new catcher was better than me, huh?” It wasn’t a serious question, not really, but he felt the muscles beneath his hands stiffen, and then Mihashi was sitting seiza in front of him, eyes bright in the dying sunlight and holding a gaze that had Abe absolutely still.

“Not… ever! Because Abe-kun… has me!” Mihashi said, fingers digging into his thighs as he spoke. “Together we’ll beat everyone!” 

It was a long three seconds before Abe felt his heart beat painfully in his chest again, somehow stunned by… whatever it is that he’d just seen in Mihashi and felt reflected back in himself. It reminded him of a promise made in his living room, locked eyes and frustration. He nodded once, because it felt like the right thing to do, and judging from the way Mihashi seemed to _sparkle_ in response, the way he got that smile that felt like it should cause spots in his vision, he supposed he was right. But he quickly remembered that they were supposed to be stretching out, and if he hurried he could still probably make it home in time for an earlier bedtime than usual and he needed all the sleep he could manage for the Spring Tournament game at the end of their training camp (ah, how nice it was to have only a practice game last year, and not an official game…).

The first years had long trickled out of the showers by the time he feels that Mihashi is sufficiently cooled down and they make it all the way to the clubroom to change, and even some of their classmates have left early. Oki, Sakaeguchi, and Suyama seemed to be the only ones left, Abe noted, pulling his undershirt over his head with a gentle exhale, but they’d already showered and were lazily getting dressed to go home. He acknowledged them with a nod before going into the showers, cleaning himself up of the grime of an afternoon practice, though it wasn’t as rigorous as usual due to the fact that he’d been on scouting duty. He stretched his arms out as he suds them up, watching the filthy soap go down the drain until nothing is left but white bubbles and pleasant cleanliness. He lingered for several moments past being clean, savoring the hot water relaxing his muscles and pounding his skin.

He shut off the water when he was finished, inhaling the steam soothingly before roughly toweling off his hair and then the rest of his body. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out into the changing area to see that the only one left now was Mihashi, who seemed from behind to be in the middle of unbuttoning his jersey. He startled when he noticed Abe, who just sighed and shook his head. Some things never changed, he supposed, unzipping his bag to pull out his clean clothes. 

“You did a good job today,” he said, taking the towel off and placing it on the bench while he got dressed. Boxer briefs were first, then the black slacks he’d brought because everything else was dirty. “Your knuckleball is really starting to come together well.” Mihashi stuttered something that seemed to be a sound of agreement, so Abe continued. “Don’t forget to eat well tonight. Just because we don’t have another game until after the training camp doesn’t mean you can slack off. And no pitching tonight when you get home!”

Mihashi made some more positive noises, which would have been enough for Abe months ago to know that he was listening. But now, things were different. They’d had almost six months of good communication, and the past three in particular had resulted in full conversations - some, even not about baseball. It was odd for the pitcher not to say _something_ , Abe thought, so he looked over to make eye contact with Mihashi, since that seemed to help smooth their conversations along, except - except Mihashi was facing away from him, his shoulders shaking and his jersey still hanging half-off his arms.

“Mihashi?” Abe asked, feeling the scowl on his face when the pitcher’s shoulders scrunched up at the sound of his name. Fear sank like ice in Abe’s stomach, his hand reaching out to Mihashi’s shoulder because what if Mihashi was _hurt_ and trying to hide it, what if he’d hurt his pitching hand and was scared to let him know, something was definitely _wrong_ , and he gripped Mihashi’s shoulder as lightly as he could afford in order to turn him around, and his eyes take in everything quickly to find the problem, from Mihashi’s red face to the tears in his eyes and the scrambling of his hands to press hard against Abe’s shoulders and the way he tries to jerk away and his pitching hand seems fine he’s definitely not favoring it and - 

Oh. _Oh._

“N-n-no, _no,_ ” Mihashi wailed, trying to turn back around by pushing Abe away - “don’t, _don’t look_ , I-I-I’m _sorry, accident_ I _swear_ \- ” and Abe released him immediately because Mihashi was pushing away and the absolute last thing he ever wanted was to make Mihashi do something against his will, but also partly because he was absolutely frozen in place because he was so _very_ positive that the bulge in the front of Mihashi’s pants was _not_ from a sports cup, and honestly he wouldn’t even have thought much about it because he got accidental erections sometimes too, but something about the way Mihashi was so desperate for him not to see it made it… _different_. 

Abe blinked himself back into the moment now and not the mental afterimage of Mihashi’s crotch, swallowed thickly, and then he was instantly aware that Mihashi was curled up into himself on the floor, back cemented to the lockers and legs pulled up to his chest, and Abe’s chest _ached_ with real pain, because he’d seen this position before, once, long ago. He’d seen this exact shaking of Mihashi’s shoulders, seen it from a set of bushes, heard these crying hiccups set off by an ex-teammates furious kick and an ancient threat of a broken arm. Mihashi’s fingers were clutching his hair between white fingers, and Abe hesitated for a second before he couldn’t stand it anymore, his body was moving, and he wasn’t really sure what he was doing except that every cell in his body demanded that he comfort Mihashi.

Mihashi stiffened as soon as Abe’s fingers touched his knees, his mouth spilling apologies instead of breaths, but Abe didn’t let Mihashi’s unresponsiveness scare him away. He took in a deep breath of his own, then leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Mihashi’s hair, letting his arms settle in around Mihashi’s quivering form. He felt the frown on his face, but he couldn’t seem to force a more neutral expression in its place, not when Mihashi was shivering and upset like this. Abe couldn’t himself be calm when Mihashi wasn’t.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” Abe said, staying exactly where he was - well, maybe pushing in a little closer, holding and not moving until finally Mihashi seemed to relax a bit. Mihashi released some of the tension in his spine, Abe could feel the exact moment when he did, and his face was tilting up, and he was flushed and his eyes were still filled to the brink with tears, and his lips were quivering with _something_ ; Abe would have said embarrassment but the firm grip of fingers twining in his pants at his thigh before reaching up and lightly gripping his elbow made his brain blank, and Abe wasn’t sure if he leaned in or if Mihashi pulled, but one moment he was comforting Mihashi and the next, his lips were pressed against Mihashi’s sweat-streaked temple and his hand resting flat on shivering abs. Abe swallowed thickly, the hiccup of pleasure in his ear echoing in his head before his palm swept down and pressed heavily against the hot bulge in Mihashi’s pants. A moan, soft and shy, vibrated against his jawline, fingers tangled in his hair, and Mihashi’s hips arched up fully into the contact. Abe knew he made a noise, he could taste the groan he smothered in Mihashi’s neck, but it was lost to the smell of the baseball field and the taste of salty skin from Mihashi’s throat against his tongue. He knew he was sucking hard enough to leave a mark, but Mihashi’s rub against his hand, the pulsing of blood beneath cloth in what was definitely Mihashi’s cock pressing eagerly into his touch, and the insistent tug on his hair told him how little Mihashi cared. 

He bit down hard, finally getting a sound that filled the showers and bounced off the tiles, and his own dick jumped at the echo, hard and more ready than he was willing to admit, and there was a moment where he had to pause to breathe because his heart was pounding in his chest, his stomach twisting in a knot and his mind blanking because this was happening, it was _really_ happening _,_ and how long had he wanted to do this, how long had he been head over heels for Mihashi Ren and this was _actually happening,_ until a soft voice calling from outside the club room brought Abe’s mouth from Mihashi’s soft skin and his thoughts back in his skull. He pulled back, feeling the blood rush from his crotch to his face when he looked at Mihashi’s flushed front that was all-too telling of just how much heavy petting he’d just received. Mihashi was panting like he’d played a hard nine innings; his face was hazy with exertion and his hand was still lodged in Abe’s hair, stubbornly remaining until he let it fall out when Abe stood to see who was coming in to the showers.

It was mere seconds when he’d pulled himself off Mihashi that Hanai came around the corner, already stripping off his jersey and tossing it messily on the bench. “Oh, good, you’re still here, Abe,” he said, his undershirt and pants coming next. “Did Shinooka talk to you about the new recruits?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Abe managed to answer, hoping that his voice wasn’t as shaky and deep to Hanai as it was to his own ears. He held his breath and waited, hearing the shuffling behind him that was telling of Mihashi standing himself, and Abe felt his heart stop when Hanai looked at their pitcher curiously. “Mihashi? What are you doing on the floor?”

“D-dropped…something…” Mihashi’s stuttered response came, and Abe shrugged instantly when Hanai’s eyes came to rest on him. Too instantly, he thought with a worried tug on his gut, but apparently he was safe as Hanai sighed and grabbed a towel before heading into the showers. Abe turned and looked back to Mihashi, who had stood with his back to where Hanai had been standing. The blond looked over his shoulder to Abe, then blushed brightly before turning back and pulling off his undershirt at last. Abe hesitated, not quite sure what he should say, if he should say _anything_ , but Mihashi’s soft “See you tomorrow” complete with a towel covering what Abe happened to know was quite an impressive erection gave him the out he needed.

It wasn’t until Abe had his shirt on and was halfway to his bike until it occurred to him that he’d just groped Mihashi and probably given him quite the hickey. His hands were tight on the handlebars of his bike, which was spectacularly uncomfortable with the lingering half-hardness between his own legs. That went away quickly enough, as the thought of Mihashi’s erection truly having been an accident and, well, it wouldn’t have been too out of the question for him to freak out for Abe to see a random erection anyway, right?, and oh god, oh god, Abe had completely taken everything out of context and their friendship was probably ruined. Definitely ruined. He’d go to practice the next day, and Mihashi was going to turn away, and when he stepped onto the mound, he’d see Abe at the plate and walk away when it wasn’t the new freshman who hadn’t happened to grope him inappropriately in the showers the previous day.

Except, it was ridiculous to think that, Abe mused as he pulled his bike up to his house and locked it up. Mihashi had definitely been into it, right? He’d pulled Abe closer, he’d sounded like he was having a good time. Which of course, brought up the possibility that… well, what if Mihashi was just looking for Abe to help him with his erection? What if he was just… not even a fuck, really, Abe thought blackly, because nothing had happened, except… it _had_ happened, holy shit it _had_. 

“Whoa, you look… happier than usual,” Shun said when he sat across the table from his older brother, hair sticking up at odd ends from his bath. “Did you have a really good day at practice or something? Oh, wait, wait, I know, you got a really cool freshman who’s really really good? Like Tajima-san? Or like Mihashi-san?” 

“Shut up,” Abe mumbled into his food, eyes locked on the baseball game playing on the television because it was distracting him from the buzzing warmth of his left palm, only to wince when a rolled up newspaper whacked on his head. He blinked grumpily at his mother, who raised her eyebrow and smacked the newspaper on his shoulder.

“Don’t talk to your brother like that, Taka. And stop scowling so much, it’s unattractive.” Abe gave a half-assed noise of acknowledgement, finishing his dinner and going upstairs to his bedroom. He dropped his dirty clothes in the basket by his closet, and grabbed his cellphone out of the side pocket to set the alarm. Flicking it open, he took note of the background and stared at it as he fell into his bed. 

He’d run into Sakaeguchi, Tajima, and Mihashi over winter break by chance, and they’d ended up having a snowball fight that was decisively ended when Mihashi proved to be extremely dangerous with his pinpoint accuracy and Tajima had just given up and started dumping wet snow down everyone’s shirts. Sakaeguchi had tried to take a nice picture of the three of them, but Tajima had taken the opportunity to shove snow down Abe’s shirt and run off. The resulting picture had been Abe’s background ever since, because even though he looked even grumpier than usual, Mihashi had _laughed_ and the moment had been caught perfectly on camera, and when he closed his eyes, he could still remember the exact sound it had made and feel the same skip in his chest.

Even in the dark of his room, he could feel the burning on his cheeks at the sight of Mihashi’s smile, not so rare now as it used to be but still a nice treat, and Abe set his alarm before grabbing a tissue and rolling onto his back. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly, reaching down into his pants without much preamble, as he was as utilitarian with his masturbating as he was with just about everything else. Except suddenly he thought about the exact weight and press of Mihashi’s erection against his palm, how he could feel the heat through the cloth of Mihashi’s clothes, how it had felt to have the pitcher _move_ against him, the exact pull of Mihashi’s fingers curling into his hair and the taste beneath his tongue, and suddenly Abe was desperate and barely able to keep silent, his hand gripping his cock hard and pumping fast beneath his blanket. His toes curled into his mattress, hips rocking as he fucked his hand, his mind chanting _Mihashi, Mihashi_ and he was almost too late with the tissue, cupping the head and letting his hot semen soak the tissue with an orgasm that had tears collecting at the corners of his eyes because now he knew exactly how Mihashi’s skin tasted where his neck met his shoulder, and he had a good enough imagination to extrapolate how he might taste everywhere else.

Abe panted and dropped the tissue into the wastebasket by his bed, then he fell to his back and pressed his forearm against his eyes as he fell into a state of relaxation. He’d definitely talk to Mihashi about what happened tomorrow, he vowed, dragging his hand over his face before letting his fingers curl desperately into his blanket to pull up to his frown. And with an exhale of a mix of determination and pleased exhaustion, he let himself drift off close to sleep, his last thought being a distant hope for a good dream.


	2. Another Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments!! I love hearing what you think, so please feel free to drop a line uwu!! Oh yeah those two ocs I talked about come in this chapter. Just some first years for the team bc Mihashi-senpai, kyaa.
> 
> chapter two feat. abe thinking too much

The next morning was a flurry of frustration and herding first years that had Abe at the end of his rope before the training camp had even begun. They were going to the same place as last year, and he’d even had a pleasant train of thought while biking to the school grounds that  _last_  year’s training camp had been a disaster but  _this_  year’s was going to be great, but the moment he’d been assigned to getting the first years in place, that pristine vision of a pleasant morning had been shattered by the sheer force of a migraine and thoughts of  _oh my God were we ever this small and annoying_.

“Thanks for your help, Abe-kun,” Shinooka said while hauling a cooler to the back of the second bus, after the two of them had spent half an hour coordinating the little ducklings into place with great difficulty. She gave him a breathless smile, and judging from the whispers that were all too audible from some of the first years stepping forward to take their seats, he’d just made some jealous enemies. “Oh, that reminds me. Momokan asked me to tell you that you and Mihashi-kun are in charge of breakfast again.”

“Are we gonna die?” a first year asked sarcastically, and before Abe really knew what he was doing, his hand reached out and smacked the offender’s head. The resulting squawk was particularly satisfying.

“You’d best get on your knees and pray for Mihashi to make your breakfast,” he deadpanned, turning his attention back to Shinooka and her all-too-knowing smile. He felt an answering scowl crawl onto his face, and he just hoped it hid the embarrassment he felt pulling in his gut at his unconscious reaction to someone insulting Mihashi. “I’ll let him know. Is there anything else you need?” Shinooka shook her head, so Abe got off the first year’s bus and strode over to the one the upperclassmen were riding in. His eyes locked with hazel, and suddenly he was losing the thoughts of pleasant early mornings spent in the kitchen and instead very much remembering the post-practice events from yesterday. Anxiety swirled and made his feet hesitate, and for a moment, he even considered looking around the bus for another vacant seat even though it was so painfully obvious that it was expected he would sit next to Mihashi. 

_No, you were going to talk to him,_  he thought sternly, forcing his feet to move and plopping down next to Mihashi. His pitcher greeted him pleasantly, and Abe unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth, about to try and figure out how to breach the subject. Except then he looked around at all of the bright faces surrounding him, all very much awake and very much capable of overhearing any conversation on a bus this size, and he felt the blood drop out of his face. Okay, so he definitely wasn’t going to bring anything up right now, and he definitely was going to have to deal with the awkward curl of his gut the entire way to the training camp from sitting next to his pitcher whom he’d groped and - oh, fuck, yeah, that was a hickey on his neck, just by his hairline that probably wasn’t visible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it but Abe  _was_  looking for it and it was  _there_ , just where he’d left it yesterday. He looked to Mihashi to try and get a feeling for the boy’s mood, but he was met with the same blank Mihashi stare and half-smile as usual. Nothing to give away whether he was upset with Abe, or if he was happy with him, or anything. 

“We’re making breakfast,” Abe said, desperate for  _something_  to say. Mihashi brightened, lips curling up a bit on the edges, and Abe felt his spine relax a bit from its iron-stiff state it had been without him knowing it. He pressed forward, feeling more confident that Mihashi would respond. “Do you still have the cookbook?”

That earned him a nod and even more curling of the lips. Success…! “I bring it every time… just in case,” Mihashi said, looking to the chair in front of him before looking back at Abe. “I have a few of them memorized, though…”

Before Abe could ask why Mihashi would bother memorizing the recipes, Hanai stepped onto the bus and nodded to the driver. “Okay, everyone, we’re good to go. Remember that we’re practicing hard, but keeping our strength for the third round after the camp. We’re mainly looking to the first years this week and their first game against Mihoshi. Any questions?”

“Yes!” Tajima said, raising his hand. “Well, not a question strictly, but a comment! I remembered last year when I forgot to masturbate and I took great care to -  _Ack_!!“

“They’re never going to find your body.” A swift and effective chokehold courtesy of Izumi, assisted by Mizutani, shut down Tajima immediately. Hanai nodded approvingly from the front of the bus, face red and hand gripping at his thigh in irritation.

“Thank you, Izumi, Mizutani. Does anyone have any  _real_  questions?” A pause of silence, and then Hanai looked to his watch and nodded to the driver once again. He took his seat next to the spluttering Tajima, and within a few moments, their bus was lurching forward on the road towards their practice camp with the second bus following closely behind. 

The bus wasn’t the only thing lurching, Abe thought, closing his eyes in irritation. His stomach was turning over itself nervously every time his mind registered the soft heat from Mihashi’s arm next to his own, and he couldn’t bring himself to look over at the blond in case the question  _“Just what the hell happened yesterday?”_ would stumble out of his mouth before he could stop himself. A glance to his left showed that Mizutani was listening to his headphones, though he was still playing a heated game of footsie with Izumi, who seemed to be reading a magazine of some sort. Tajima was all but crawling over Hanai, who was doing his absolute best not to murder the third baseman, and Oki looked on with Nishihiro, both with faces filled with sympathy as they whispered to each other. 

Except then Oki looked over to Abe and met his gaze, and Abe watched as he smiled nervously then started whispering to Nishihiro again. A thick feeling sank into his stomach as Abe looked back to the front of the bus, feeling his face drain of color once again. It was stupid, there was no way someone could know that he masturbated to Mihashi, he’d done it before for fuck’s sake and never felt this sinking feeling in his stomach, but somehow… somehow having done it with the specific feeling of Mihashi’s body in his mind was causing him to feel different. Or maybe it was because that very same body was right next to him, and Oki and Nishihiro were whispering about it, there was no way they weren’t whispering about it, oh God they were totally whispering about it.

Abe bit down on his tongue, turning his intense gaze down to where his hands were resting firmly on his knees and Not Looking Right, as that was where Mihashi was sitting and thus a Danger Zone. He tried to think of something they could talk about, except his mind was drawing a blank. They’d already gone over the batting for Urawa General extensively, their opponent in the Spring Tournament after they got back from training camp, so that was a no go. He’d already brought up breakfast, so that was no good, too. Oh, except, hadn’t they been interrupted, Abe thought, tightening his fingers on his knees. Mihashi was being entirely too quiet next to him and every second of silence had Abe’s heart beating faster and faster because there was no way of knowing whether it was the kind of silence where Mihashi was ignoring him or the kind of silence where Mihashi was disgusted by him or the kind of silence where Mihashi was happy and he couldn’t  _ask_  in front of the others…! 

Almost making a physical noise of strain, Abe finally let his eyes cut over to the right to see if he could reassess Mihashi’s face for  _some_  kind of reaction, and - and, and Mihashi was sleeping, Abe saw, everything draining out of him as if his stomach had opened into a vast abyss. Mihashi’s head was leaned far back, mouth hanging wide open and steady breaths passing his lips in time with the gentle rise and fall of his snoozing chest. An irrational flash of anger lit like a fire in his gut at the audacity of Mihashi to sleep so comfortably when Abe was drowning in turmoil right next to him, but it was quickly replaced by a streak of panic that Mihashi was sleeping and his head wasn’t on Abe’s shoulder. That was how it had been on their way back from their last few rounds of the Fall Tournament, and the first game of the Spring Tournament, so did that mean Mihashi was avoiding him because he hated him now, or - 

“Abe, calm down,” a sudden voice came, and Abe looked up to see Izumi, sitting across the aisle from him, still thumbing through his magazine. Abe stared, and Izumi looked up from the silky pages beneath his fingers. “You were making choking noises. Are you getting motion sickness? I’ll be really pissed if you throw up on me.”

“Huh?” Abe answered dumbly, blinking at Izumi who blinked at him in response, but then Izumi’s eyes looked just past him, and he rolled them with a quick shot of an irritated frown to Abe before going back to his magazine. Abe looked at him a moment longer, then decided that Izumi’s silent prompt to end the conversation was probably for the best.

Mihashi woke up as soon as the bus stopped in front of the house they’d stayed in last year, almost as if he had an alarm clock in his brain. He straightened his neck out, winced a bit, then rolled his shoulder. Abe reached a hand up and rested it there on the joint before gently rubbing it, getting sleep-hazy eyes to look his way and a half-awake murmur of his name before Mihashi hummed in gratitude. Hate him or no, Mihashi and his pitching shoulder were still sacred, and anything Abe could do to mitigate any damage or discomfort was priority number one.

“All right, come on. Time to wake up,” Abe said, pulling his hand away and standing to get off the bus. The second bus was emptying itself of the group of first years, and Momoe pulled up not too much longer in her car. The next hour or so was spent with everyone cleaning up the place, except for Mihashi, who was on strict Ai-watching duty despite his protests that he would much rather help clean and his “Abe-kun please don’t leave me alone with Ai-chan what if she runs away you know I can't - " mantra. Abe spent the morning cleaning toilets next to Sakaeguchi, half an ear listening to Sakaeguchi’s excitement for the training camp and the other half listening out for Mihashi in case he had to come to the rescue.

As it turned out, Mihashi handled Ai just fine, and the team got together for lunch with loud talking filling the building with bustling activity. Abe snagged Mihashi and told him to go grab the cookbook after they finished eating, sitting on the edge of the room with a notebook in his hands. Mihashi returned, book pressed to his chest, sitting close to Abe so they could hear one another over the thunderous noise of the baseball team. Abe took in the various bookmarks Mihashi had added into the cookbook since the last time they’d used it back in the fall, and once again he remembered Mihashi on the bus that morning mentioning how he’d memorized some of the recipes, and his curiosity piqued before he looked at his watch and saw they only had ten minutes to figure everything out. Another time, another conversation he promised himself they’d have, just like so many others, Abe thought. The thought reminded him of heat and the clubroom floor, and he realized that from here, he could smell Mihashi’s shampoo. He shoved the idea violently down and focused on the menu.

They finished with seconds to spare, the baseball team splitting off in their respective directions for the afternoon activity. The pitchers and catchers went off to the field with Momoe to practice, and everyone else went up into the mountain with Shiga-sensei to collect food for dinner and begin their path to holding hands and instant relaxation. As soon as they were standing on the path towards the baseball field, Mihashi pressed Ai’s leash into Abe’s palm, exhaling and finally regaining a bit of the color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there all morning with a bit of the stress that was always there on his face falling a bit.

“Mihashi-senpai, are you scared of dogs?” a high-pitched voice said, and Abe turned in tandem with Mihashi to see one of the first years plodding behind them like a little duckling. Harada Daisuke, the ace pitcher from his middle school, Abe remembered from the sheets. He looked over to Mihashi, biting his lower lip to keep the amused grin down when he saw Mihashi’s wary stare. “I’m Harada Daisuke, a pitcher! I went to your last game in the Fall Tournament, and you were  _so cool_ , Mihashi-senpai! Can you teach me how to wind up, too?! Oh, and I only have three pitches, so can you teach me the shoot? And - "

Abe grimaced after he turned back around and started walking towards the field, feeling his migraine from earlier starting to come back threateningly. Harada was still babbling Mihashi’s ear off behind him, his voice one long inflection of bubbly Japanese that was in direct contrast to the short and stammering responses Abe could pick out in a crowd of ten thousand. Abe looked over his shoulder, out of curiosity, and was surprised to see that Mihashi was actually… well, not happy, per se, but definitely enjoying the ego stroke, if that little curling of his lips and noodle expression on his face was anything to go by. Maybe they’d get along better than he thought, Abe mused. That Harada kid did kind of remind him of Tajima a bit, and whatever cosmic force that allowed Tajima and Mihashi to get along so well must be having the same effect on Harada. 

Or at least that’s what he thought until Harada skipped off to go see the catcher he’d been paired up with, and Abe heard the heavy sigh at his elbow. He turned and looked at Mihashi, who looked suddenly tired, not too different than the rest of the team looked when he and Tajima interacted. “You have a fan,” Abe said, quite impressed by the withering look Mihashi sent his way. It felt almost like a reward to bury his hand in Mihashi’s hair, ruffling the blond strands and reveling in the softness between his fingers while his ears feasted on the squeak of pleasure Mihashi released at the contact. “Keep a good eye on him today. We’re going to be deciding their training schedule after this.” It wasn’t often that Mihashi got permission to look at the pitcher instead of the batters, and Abe knew from the glow on his face just how excited he was to do just that. Even, it seemed, for competition.

Abe stood not too far from where Momoe was talking to Harada and the first-year catcher (Kamon Satoshi, his mind recalled the boy’s name), ignoring the slight tug of Ai’s leash on his wrist when Mihashi took his place to his left. He felt a sudden return of the twisting stomach that had plagued him the entire bus ride to camp, his eyes looking to Mihashi’s crotch before he jerks them to his feet and prays silently that Mihashi didn’t look over and see just how red-hot he knew his face was. He looks back up to the field in front of him, watching as Kamon and Harada started talking about some signs while Momoe started towards Abe and Mihashi.

“You two know your job today, right?” Momoe asked when she was standing just in front of them. Abe agreed, and he saw Mihashi’s rapid head nod out of the corner of his eye. 

“Abe-kun and I… are going to watch!” Mihashi chirped, eyes wide and bright with excitement before he looked over at Abe and then to Momoe, shrinking a bit as he wrung his hands together nervously. “And maybe, later… we can pitch?”

Momoe laughed fully, slapping a hand on Mihashi’s left shoulder fondly. “Sure, you can pitch later. But only twenty! We don’t want you to get injured before the game next week. Harada-kun needs a lot of work before you can even  _think_  about getting injured.” Abe watches Mihashi nod furiously, face red with the pleasure of being needed and important. “Then, pay close attention. You two will help me put together their training regime later, so don’t miss anything!”

Abe felt Mihashi vibrating with pleasure next to him even as his eyes became razor-focused in front of him, and he looked out to the field and saw Harada take to the mound as Kamon jogged out to crouch by home plate. Kamon had decent form, Abe thought, though he could probably stand to be more stable. He was bigger than Tajima, but not as big as Abe, so he’d probably have a difficult time defending home plate. Kamon signed, then lifted his glove. It was steady, earning a nod of approval from Abe, and it moved quickly to adjust to Harada’s less-than-perfectly placed pitch. Abe felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, gratitude and awe for Mihashi’s precise nine-partition pitching sending chills up his spine like it did every once in a while when he thought about it. Harada’s pitch had been about one twenty kilometers an hour, Abe gauged while watching Kamon throw the ball back, letting the sound of the ball hitting the mitt echo in his ears.

“That was… curve,” Mihashi mumbled next to him. Abe looked over to see Mihashi standing a little straighter, a little more confident, and Abe couldn’t help the proud smile that pulled his lips as his stomach fluttered a bit. Momoe had definitely wanted them to help with making the training schedule, but a sudden thought that perhaps she’d also planned to have Mihashi see Harada pitch and feel more secure in his ace position suddenly occurred to him. A glance over to Momoe, who looked at him and gave him a knowing smile, all but confirmed it and he shot her a thumb’s up in return. “What does… Abe-kun think?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, they’re pretty good,” Abe answered, waiting a breath before he continued. “You’re better.” Mihashi hummed next to him, and Abe looked over to see that the blond’s cheekbones were pink and his lips forming a smile. Mihashi looked up before Abe could go back to watching the first years practice, and he knew he was supposed to be watching Kamon to pull apart his stance to critique later, he  _knew_ that, but as soon as Mihashi’s hazel eyes locked with his, Abe felt his heart stop in his chest and his mouth was opening and he was talking before he could even stop himself. “Mihashi… I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About yesterday,” he clarified when Mihashi blinked rapidly in confusion, watching as Mihashi’s eyes dropped to the ground and a blush took over his face.

“Oh,” Mihashi responded, and Abe felt his stomach twist because he couldn’t tell from the tone of that one sound what was going to come next out of Mihashi’s mouth, and he hated this; he hated the feeling of his insides twisting around themselves, hated knowing that  _this_  was anxiety and  _this_  was how Mihashi felt so often; he hated watching the curve of Mihashi’s mouth as the pitcher started to put the words in his head through his lips to talk while Abe thought of how they might taste on his tongue; he hated waiting, forcing his face into stone, feeling his chest skip a bit when Mihashi finally looked up and they locked gazes and Mihashi was about to talk and - 

A painful thwack filled the air, startling Ai into jerking her leash, pulling Abe out of his moment with Mihashi and back into the practice he just remembered they were supposed to be watching. He looked over, watching as Harada ran up with apologizes flying out of his mouth as Kamon clutched his stomach painfully, the catcher raising a hand to tell his pitcher he was okay even as he coughed around the sudden impact of a fastball into his diaphragm. He remembered what that felt like, Abe thought, watching with careful eyes as Kamon slowly started to breathe normally again and told Harada he was fine, it was just another bruise and they just needed to practice together some more so he could read how to adjust his mitt better. 

Abe felt the warmth to his left from Mihashi, from a hand dangling close to his, his pitcher’s pitching hand next to Abe’s catching hand, and once again, he felt that wave of gratitude, had to close his eyes from the sudden emotion pricking them into wetness as he thought of all those times he’d pulled off his shirt and ran a hand over his ugly body to now, feeling so comfortable it wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to go into the bullpen with only a helmet. He wanted to take Mihashi’s hand and hold it tight in his own, wanted to turn and say thank you, to say all of the things bubbling in his chest that made his tongue feel heavy and useless, but a glance to Mihashi told him that the blond was focusing on the two first years in front of him, and he’d just have to wait. Just like the insides of his stomach started twisting around themselves again at the thought that yet again, he was going to have to put off asking him about what happened in the clubroom. Always another conversation to have later.

They returned to the building for dinner as the sun started dying, Harada and Kamon taking the lead while Mihashi and Abe walked with Momoe and discussed possible training regimes to put their first years through to get them ready for their Saturday practice game against Mihoshi’s first years. Abe told Momoe his concerns about Kamon’s stature and position, and he listened to Mihashi suggest target practice, and they both nodded when Momoe brought up practicing together to form that battery bond. Abe handed Ai over to Momoe when they got to the back door, which opened to reveal the smell of a meal as delicious as he was hungry. Shiga-sensei was in the middle of his explanations about the importance of a meal to their meditation to come, and Abe watched as Mihashi was grabbed by Tajima and stuck between the third baseman and Mizutani because “Abe’s had you all day and I want my turn!” was a good enough excuse, apparently. Abe took his seat next to Sakaeguchi, leaned over his plate and joined the ritual, then stuffed his face because food was more important than talking when his tummy was this empty.

The first years set up their futons in the large living area, leaving the original team members once again to figure out what happens when two boys slept in the same place. Surprisingly, it was Oki who started the pillow fight this year, though Shiga-sensei was as quick to shut Hanai down as he was last year when the captain got too cocky with a successful pillow to Tajima’s face, and Abe was glad when Mihashi lightly picked up a pillow and flopped it dead-center in Mizutani’s face. Warmth spread in his gut at the sight of the blond taking part of the team shenanigans and not hiding in the closet he heard happened last year, and he thought to himself how he was no different; last year he’d taken to the stump out back with a mitt and precious solitude in hand, but this year, his hands held not leather, but feathers, and then nothing but air as Nishihiro went down for the count. 

Abe appreciated the laughter filling the room until then Shiga-sensei called for them to get to bed because tomorrow was going to be a long day of careful practice. He gripped his futon in his hand, pulling it next to the one in the corner because he was pretty sure he’d seen Mihashi place that one there, and maybe they would be the last ones asleep and Abe could tell Mihashi how not sorry he was that he now knew the exact pressure it took to leave a mark on his skin, but not until he made sure that they were okay, that their battery was okay and - and, dare he hope, something more? 

When Suyama was the one to take the corner futon and Hanai came tucking in to the other side, Abe looked and saw that Mihashi had just been nice and was fixing all of the futons into place; that yes, Abe had seen him place this one but Mihashi was falling into one on the far side of the room; and no, it was rather clear that he and Mihashi would not be having that conversation today, or tonight, or possibly until tomorrow morning until - Ah, breakfast, Abe remembered, pulling the blanket up to his chin and staring at the ceiling as hope tugged at his gut. He could talk to Mihashi tomorrow while they were cooking breakfast. He closed his eyes, and sighed as he realized that at least one tiny part of his careful plan was happening exactly as he’d predicted:

Abe was indeed the last one to fall asleep.


	3. False End

Abe woke up the next morning feeling decisively unrested. The sun still wasn’t up, though that wasn’t anything unusual for his mornings, and it took him a moment of staring blearily up at the ceiling to remember that he was at training camp and not in his bedroom at home. It was almost funny that he’d forgotten, considering he’d spent half the night tossing around his futon as much as the tiny space would allow. Reaching above his head, he found his phone and turned off the vibrating alarm, sliding his forearm over his eyes and sighing heavily before he sat up in a rush. 

His blanket pooled around his hips, and he pushed it down and crawled around in the darkness for his bag to pull out a pair of pants. Then, tiptoeing around the sleeping bodies of his teammates, he crossed the room until he reached a gentle mop of blond hair protruding from a messy bunch of blanket. Abe kneeled down, reaching a hand out to put it on Mihashi’s shoulder to shake him awake, only to watch as his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own and reached instead for the hair falling in Mihashi’s face. He brushed the bangs off, gently, watching each soft breath of air in and out of Mihashi’s lips, counting each and every eyelash resting on cheekbones too soft to belong to a second year in high school. His stomach was doing strange things, probably those ‘butterflies’ he’d read about on the internet months ago while trying to figure out what had been wrong with him, and his fingertips were now all-too aware of the exact curve from Mihashi’s temple to his jaw. Abe pulled his hand back, covering his mouth and feeling the slow heat of his blush against his palm.

Watching Mihashi sleep made his chest hurt.

“Mihashi,” he urged, snapping himself into purpose because they had a job to do, taking his hand out again and this time managing to shake the pitcher’s shoulder like he’d intended before. The arm beneath his grasp shifted and moved, not quite as small against his palm as it used to be, and Mihashi was slowly sitting up, blinking at Abe as his brain started for the day. “Time to make breakfast,” Abe said, holding up his phone so Mihashi could see the time. He stood up, physically turning himself away because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the sight of Mihashi rubbing his eyes and his fair sprawl of bed head.

The walk to the kitchen was painfully silent save for their slow shuffling footsteps, mostly because Mihashi was still waking up and Abe didn’t want to wake anyone _else_ up. He had to bite down on his tongue, as each step with Mihashi’s gentle yawns behind him reminded him that they were in a house together and, while not technically alone, they were the only ones awake and that meant one thing: enough privacy for a personal conversation. And, Abe thought with a heavy swallow, the conversation he wanted - _needed_ \- to have was… very personal. 

Turning on the lights to the kitchen made him scowl, and a croak behind him showed that he was not alone. Mihashi stepped forward, grabbing the cookbook and putting it down on the counter next to the preparation area. Abe expected him to flip it open, but he watched as Mihashi went straight to the pantry and started collecting ingredients. Standing behind him and feeling mildly useless, Abe peered over Mihashi’s shoulder to see him pulling the potatoes to the side first. Grabbing a knife, Mihashi turned, extending it handle-first towards Abe.

“Here. You wash these, then peel them, and then cut them into little pieces,” Mihashi said, turning back around and making himself busy with putting something - stock?? water?? Abe didn’t know - in a pot on the stove. Abe watched him out of the corner of his eye as he put the potatoes under the stream of water, hands moving to clean them of dirt as his eyes took in the comfort Mihashi had chopping things and moving around in the kitchen. He was… he was even humming a bit, Abe realized, freezing in place with a potato gripped tightly in his hand and watching the scene before him. It was a few moments before he could bring himself to disturb it. He clenched his teeth, swallowed around the knot in his throat, then decided to go for it.

“Mihashi - ” “The potatoes - ”

Abe blinked, staring open-mouthed at Mihashi who was looking over his shoulder with a similar expression at Abe. They were silent for a moment, but Mihashi recovered first with a few rapid blinks. “I need the potatoes after this, Abe-kun,” Mihashi murmured, and Abe felt a sting of embarrassment rise hot on the back of his neck. He tore his eyes away from Mihashi and quickly peeled a few of the potatoes, then cut them into the little pieces as per his instructions. After a minute or so, Mihashi swooped in next to him, handing him a bowl and then swooping right back out. Looking over at the blond, Abe was met with Mihashi’s back, and he’d started humming again. Abe put the potatoes in the bowl, then brought it over and put it on the counter next to the stove.

“Thank you, Abe-kun!” Mihashi chirped, flashing Abe a cute smile that had him momentarily stunned. He came back, realizing that Mihashi had given him more instructions but he’d missed them in his daze. Probably seeing his blank look, Mihashi repeated what he’d said. “I said, go start the rice.”

“Oh, right,” Abe said, grabbing the huge bag of rice from the little pantry area. He checked the label and confirmed that it was musenmai and thus not needing to be washed, still remembering the first time he’d realized Mihashi’s superior confidence in the kitchen over his own. He poured the rice into the cooker, added the water, then pushed the button. Looking over his shoulder, Abe saw Mihashi cutting the pork into neat little strips. He was efficient with each stroke of the blade, each piece going in the frying pan that was almost ready to go on the eye to cook. 

Abe found himself looking at Mihashi’s back, his shoulder blades that were moving with each cut, and the way the cotton pulled over muscles that were much more developed than the scrawny kid of their first year but still slight compared to everyone else on the team. His waist trimmed down to his narrow hips, poorly defined by the undershirt and sweats he was wearing but well-known to Abe. He’d spent an entire year sneaking glances at Mihashi’s hipbones disappearing into his clothes, the smooth expanse of pale skin uncovered in the clubroom and the showers a feast for hungry eyes. More than once, he’d thought about what it would feel like to reach a hand out while Mihashi was pulling his shirt over his head and trace bare fingertips down the barely-visible blond trail on Mihashi’s stomach, and with a swallow Abe was very suddenly aware that he was getting a little too excited, and also that he had something he was supposed to be doing besides getting the plates out. He couldn’t afford another sleepless night.

“Mihashi,” Abe started again, earning a small sound from the blond as recognition that he was listening. Abe paused, wondering if he should demand that Mihashi stop cooking and pay complete attention to what he was going to say, because this was _important_ , this was something that needed one hundred percent, and he’d even opened his mouth to bark at Mihashi to turn around, but he swallowed it as the blood drained from his face a bit and was replaced with a wave of frustration. No, he didn’t want to sound like he was yelling or angry. The last thing he needed was for Mihashi to associate anything negative with this conversation, or to have any kind of misunderstanding about how Abe’d felt about what had happened the other day in the clubhouse. The longer they didn’t have this conversation the worse it would get, especially if Mihashi was having any kind of negative reaction to it; the idiot was prone to putting stupid thoughts in his head, but Abe knew that most importantly, he needed to be patient. Like a stone, or maybe a calm river.

“Abe-kun…?” Mihashi prompted, looking over his shoulder and blinking innocently. Abe stared, swallowed, and tried to think of how to say what he needed to say, how to get Mihashi to say what _he_ needed to say, how to _communicate_ and _why was this so fucking hard for them_. “Um, would you grab the yogurt out while you’re talking, please?” Abe nodded, as he thought honestly to himself that he needed the moment to collect his thoughts. He looked into the fridge and saw the huge tub of yogurt, pulled it out, and started spooning it into the little bowls for everyone. He stared at the white mounds, at all of the little bowls, and it was almost as if seeing the servings being put out reminded him that there were other people here, that they were asleep now but they’d be up soon, and he only had so much time left before they’d be clamoring around and Abe would lose his chance to talk again.

“Mihashi, I need… to talk to you,” Abe said, putting the spoon he’d used for the yogurt in the sink to be washed later. He stared at the bottom of the sink, watched the water drip out of the tap slowly, and then he felt the muscles in his stomach clench as his lips parted and he spoke. “About… About the clubhouse.”

There was a squawk behind him, and the sound of splashing miso, and Abe whirled around because Mihashi had just burned himself on the soup and it was all his fault for trying to talk about this when he was cooking and - “Mihashi, are you okay?!” His hand gripped Mihashi’s bicep, pulling him away from the soup and his hands flashing down to snatch Mihashi’s gently in his own to look for the red splotchy injury to bring it under the cold tap water, but there was nothing, and a cursory look over his wrists and forearms showed nothing. Mihashi was stiff in his grasp, but he wasn’t showing any signs of pain. Abe exhaled slowly, feeling like a balloon going flat, except then he felt a twist in his stomach when Mihashi pulled his hands away and turned back towards the soup, clearly rejecting his touch.

“Th… The spoon fell in…” Mihashi stuttered softly, and Abe looked from his empty hands to the pot in front of Mihashi, where he could just see the spoon the pitcher had been using to cook at the bottom of the clear broth; and then he looked to Mihashi’s face, which was dangerously flushed, red as the blood that had stopped pumping in Abe’s body. “Um… can you hand me some… tongs, please…”

“Yeah,” Abe responded, feeling muted and heavy, and he looked turned away from Mihashi with great effort. He pulled open a drawer and saw nothing but kitchen towels, and continued until he found one that had lots of miscellaneous cooking tools. Among them was, thankfully, a pair of tongs. Abe turned back around and handed it to Mihashi, whose spine was clearly a steel rod in his back if his movements were anything to go by. He took them, reached down inside the soup, and plucked the spoon off the bottom of the pot. He put it down to the side, then plopped the tongs next to them and grabbed another spoon to continue cooking. Abe tore his eyes away, going to the fridge to get the orange juice, and decisively keeping his mouth cemented shut. There was no way he was going to distract Mihashi from cooking again, he thought, swallowing and feeling his chest constrict with the possibility that Mihashi could have gotten hurt and it would have been his fault for talking when he _knew_ he should have waited until he had Mihashi’s full attention.

“Abe-kun - ” Mihashi started, but Abe cut him off with the sharp sound of a closing cabinet.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Abe instructed, before wincing a bit because he heard the edge in his voice, he heard the way he sounded angry, and even worse than that, he heard the scared squeak behind him and felt every aching decibel of the intense silence that now brewed between them. Abe closed his eyes and gripped his hands tightly on the countertop, a wave of rippling disappointment in himself forcing him to take a moment to breathe. Now he was going to have to apologize on top of talk to him, he knew, souring at the thought. Absolutely nothing about this was happening the way it should have. He started pouring the orange juice, ears catching on to the sounds of his teammates starting to stir in the other room. It was then that he realized that he could hear them because the kitchen had gone silent. Mihashi was no longer humming, his good mood ruined because of Abe. He swallowed past the frustration pricking tears into his eyes.

His only hope was that maybe he hadn’t ruined Mihashi’s practice today too.

\----------

Except he had.

Day two of the camp - which was more for the first years than for the second years because one, the second years were still in the middle of the spring tournament and two, the first years were keeping up the game against Mihoshi for tradition - was an absolute disaster. Or rather, Abe knew it was a disaster, and everyone else just thought that Mihashi was trying to conserve his energy for their game against Urawa General next week. 

After adding the windup and backspin to his game, Mihashi had spent all winter getting his nine-partition back for his pitch placement, but today, he was back to the speed of their first year with half of the control. Worse yet, every time Abe went up to the mound to try and talk him out of whatever frenzy he’d worked himself up into, Mihashi would stutter and shy away from his touch, until finally Abe stopped reaching out to him and instead clenched his hand in a fist at his thigh. His palm felt empty without the weight of Mihashi’s pressed up against his, and despite the black glove and the summer heat, he knew his hand was ice cold. 

Lunchtime was spent awkwardly putting the next day’s breakfast together, and then it was back to afternoon practice and more shuddering proof that something was definitely wrong with their battery. As if Abe needed any more confirmation than that, as if he could _take_ any more confirmation than that, he watched silently as Mihashi danced around his teammates in their room that night, and once again, he failed to fall asleep, tossing half the night and clutching his pillow to his hollow chest surrounded by people who weren’t his pitcher.

On the third day, Oki looked disturbed during practice and asked if everything was okay, because he’d noticed that Mihashi was more jittery than usual and out of anyone else on the team, he was the one to understand the origin of Mihashi’s nervous quirks, but even he was at a loss. Abe told him that they were working on their communication, that yes something was off but they were fixing it, but watching Oki nod slowly and return to his practice was like a knife in his gut. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to do something to upset Mihashi and have their poor conversation disrupt the rest of the team, but now that was looking like more of a reality than ever. Abe thought back to the first morning, when Mihashi had been happily humming while making breakfast, and he smothered his face in his hands as he wondered desperately what he could do to get that back.

Kamon came up to Abe on the fourth day and asked him to spend the morning practice helping him with defense, because the first year knew he was at a disadvantage with his size and he didn’t want to lose a single point to Mihoshi from his inability to defend. Abe agreed, if only because it kept him away from having to stare at the mound where Mihashi was talking with Harada about how to throw the shoot. There was no way Harada was going to have it ready for the game against Mihoshi, but he looked as thirsty to learn as Mihashi looked to be doing something that wasn’t pitching to Abe. No, Abe thought, shaking his head; now he was projecting his fears onto Mihashi’s actions, and he didn’t really _know_ that was the case, it could just be that Mihashi was excited to have an underclassman that was hero-worshiping him, and it _probably_ wasn’t the case that he hated Abe now for yelling at him, and there was a good chance that he didn’t think Abe was a gross pervert, and maybe just maybe they would be okay, and… 

Abe felt sick.

During lunch, while Abe was looking for Mihashi to figure out the next morning’s breakfast, Kamon cornered him with a sheepish look on his face. “I was wondering if you could help me work out some pitch calling this afternoon, Abe-senpai,” Kamon said, the perfect picture of a cute little underclassman. Abe nodded, but then he paused.

“I can help you with general stuff, but you’ll be playing against the first years alone, so I won’t have any data to go off of,” Abe said, watching as Kamon deflated. “But Mihashi might know how they hit.”

“Mihashi-senpai?” Kamon repeated, and Abe nodded.

“Mihashi went to Mihoshi for middle school, and he might know the underclassmen. We can ask him tomorrow morning after we see the roster for specifics, but I’ll go through the general stuff with you this afternoon.” Kamon walked away, practically glittering with excitement. Abe sighed a bit, glad for a good excuse to talk to Mihashi, but feeling the queasy sensation return from earlier at the reminder that it was only through baseball that they were ever guaranteed good communication. 

\----------

The bus ride to Mihoshi was not as unpleasant or awkward as it could have been, as Sakaeguchi slid into the seat next to Abe’s before Mihashi even got anywhere near the bus. Abe made a point of not making any kind of eye contact with the pitcher when he heard the distinctive soft footsteps into the vehicle, just in case Mihashi would see some kind of purposeful vindication on his face that definitely wasn’t there, because he’d kind of wanted to sit next to Mihashi if only because he was starting to notice that he felt a strange loneliness and hollowness in his gut when they didn’t interact. He’d first noticed it, mildly, when he’d gotten injured and couldn’t catch for Mihashi. Ignoring the team’s jibes that he was going into withdrawal had been easy enough, because surely it had just been because he wanted to play, but over winter break when Mihashi’s family had gone to Gunma for a week, Abe realized just how bad he had it, and now he knew that three days without barely speaking to his pitcher was just unacceptable. Of course, Sakaeguchi was privy to none of this, and his smile was as carefree as ever.

“I remember when we were the ones freaking out about our first game,” he said, looking over Abe through the window and out to where the first years were crawling onto the bus with a mix of trepidation and excitement. “They have it a lot easier than poor Mihashi did, though. Now he’s pretty excited to see that pitcher friend of his. They’ve been texting all morning.”

“Oh, really?” Abe asked, feeling a bit soothed by Sakaeguchi’s statement, and a bit jealous at the same time, but more than anything relieved that Mihashi was at least finding something happy to think about. It was certainly more than Abe felt he could say for himself. “Does he seem a bit… unhappy to you?”

Sakaeguchi tilted his head. “Mihashi, you mean?” Abe nodded, and Sakaeguchi tapped a finger on his thigh as he thought about it. “Well, not really… Unhappy probably isn’t the word I’d use. He has definitely been a little weird these past couple of days, but… You’d probably have to as Tajima for a better translation. Or, isn’t that something you should know?” Sakaeguchi gave him a teasing smile, and Abe rolled his eyes before looking out the window to see the bus start towards Mihoshi. If he’d known back around Christmas that Sakaeguchi, while being excellent at keeping secrets, was equally good at teasing you about them, he would have never used him as a confidant about his feelings for Mihashi. Then again, he was the only other person on the team in a relationship, and considering it was with Suyama, Abe had thought it would be wise to ask someone about intra-team romance to someone who knew best. “But seriously, is there something you need to talk about?”

“Yes, but not here, and not to you,” Abe responded truthfully, earning a hum of understanding. It sounded harsh even to his own ears, but he saw Sakaeguchi nod out of the corner of his eye, and he knew that his teammate hadn’t taken it the way it had sounded.

“I thought so. That’s why I took the seat next to you, to be honest,” Sakaeguchi confessed, laughing lightly. “You’ve been pretty down all week.” Abe looked over to Sakaeguchi, who shrugged with a frank expression. He then sighed, propping his elbow up on the window and looking out again at the passing scenery. Next to him, Sakaeguchi leaned over and started a conversation with Nishihiro, and Abe felt himself withdraw into his desperate thoughts of how to fix the problem between him and Mihashi for the rest of the trip. If he couldn’t work it out soon, they were going to have trouble in their next game, and the mere thought made his grip on the armrest tighten.

When they arrived at Mihoshi, they piled off the bus and grabbed their bags before heading on over to the field. Abe watched as Mihashi pulled out his phone and started texting, probably to that pitcher friend of his. The first years led the way to the field, taking to the dugout and changing into their practice uniforms with chatty energy buzzing all around. Shinooka slipped off to go grab the pitch order once the other team’s first years arrived, and Mihashi went straight to the blue jersey with the number one on the back with a bright expression on his face. Abe tried not to stare, tried to make himself busy in the dugout making sure the first years were getting their stuff and keeping it all organized, then directing them to fielding practice while Kamon and Harada headed for the bullpen. He tried, but he failed, and Abe watched as Mihashi smiled for the first time since Abe had ruined his morning that first day.

Shinooka came back with a piece of paper clutched in her hands, and she handed it over to Abe when he stepped forward with his hand extended. He looked over it and noted that each member was a first year, just like their own roster. Looking up, Abe directed his attention to where Mihashi was still chatting with the other pitcher.

“Mihashi!” he shouted, causing the blond to startle and look over his shoulder, and then the other pitcher shoved him towards the dugout. Abe glared, because even though he knew it had been a friendly motion, and that yes Mihashi wasn’t as delicate as he used to be, damn it that arm was _precious_ and what if something happened?! But Mihashi was running towards him, and Abe knew he had to get rid of his grumpy expression quickly or else that idiot would think it was directed towards him. He managed, barely, he thought, since Mihashi didn’t look any more spooked than normal these past few days. “Do you recognize any of these players?” Abe asked, handing the sheet over. Mihashi took it, glancing over, and Abe took the time to turn around towards the bullpen. “Kamon! Harada!” 

“I know… a few,” Mihashi said, handing the piece of paper over to Abe and reciting the names that he recognized. Just then, Kamon and Harada jogged over, standing in front of their elders with nervous energy. 

“Listen up. Mihashi’s going to tell you their pitching preferences, and you’ll have to use those as best as you can. Things may have changed since it’s been a while, but it’s better than nothing,” Abe said, handing the piece of paper over to Mihashi to use as a guide. He took it, then squinted at the field in thought as he tried to remember each of the batter’s preferences from middle school. Kamon and Harada listened carefully, nodding every once in a while, and Kamon recited them back to Mihashi when he was finished to make sure he had it. Mihashi nodded, and then the two first years were back to the dugout to get ready for their game. 

Abe was blisteringly aware of the fact that Mihashi was standing next to him, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and took Mihashi’s hand in his own. The pitcher jumped, eyes wide and locked on Abe’s face, and Abe felt the wave of irritation at himself for letting Mihashi get this worked up. “I’m sorry,” Abe said, quiet despite the fact that no one was really close enough to overhear and even if they had been, they were more interested in the game than the second year battery. He felt his fingers tighten on Mihashi’s, his eyebrows furrowing tightly together. “I really messed you up all week, didn’t I?”

Mihashi blinked up at him, processing what Abe had said, but before he could really give a response Momoe was calling for Abe back into the dugout. Abe felt his teeth grind together in a desperate frustration because damn it, he finally had Mihashi here, had his attention, and even though this was probably the shittiest time to talk about it he was _talking about it_ , but he let loose a breath from deep in his chest and released Mihashi’s hand to turn and walk back to the dugout. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to turn around, desperate to see Mihashi’s expression, hungering to know that his words had gotten through, but he refused to let himself. After the game, he silently vowed to himself; after the game they would talk.

Nishihiro took his customary spot as third base coach, and Tajima took the first base coaching box. Abe arrived in the dugout and walked over to Momoe when she gestured for him to get closer. “I want you to watch Kamon and take note of his pitch calling,” she said, and Abe nodded. “I’ll have Mihashi watch Harada, but keep an eye on him, too, when you can.”

“Understood,” Abe nodded, and just as he turned and leaned over the dugout to focus his gaze on where Kamon was settling into his crouch at home plate, Shinooka’s voice came over the loudspeakers, announcing the beginning of the game.

Abe watched Kamon closely, just as he was instructed, and took note that the young catcher definitely was someone who felt the pressure of a real game over the pressure of practice. He did well, however, calling the first inning into three outs with a pop fly, one looking, and a grounder to first. The bottom of the first had their new star batters coming up, though the freshman cleanup was destroyed by the Mihoshi pitcher’s screwball. Two players on base, but no score when the third out came.

The second inning went well also, with one runner making it to third before the end of their side. The third inning came and went without a score, and in the fourth, a dead ball on Kamon had him walked a the bottom of the second after two outs, and he managed to steal second thanks to Tajima’s base coaching. Abe stared, then felt his gut pull the moment Kamon took one step too far for a lead. As if sensing his discomfort, the Mihoshi pitcher did a check throw, and Kamon was caught between second and third.

“I’m sorry, Abe-senpai,” Kamon mumbled when he came back to the dugout and started putting on his catching gear. “I got a little too antsy to steal third.”

Abe nodded, watching the younger catcher pull his gear on. He understood the desire to get a point no matter what, and looking out to the home plate he’d felt the similar emotion on just last year had him grabbing Kamon’s helmet and holding it out to him. “Last year, I got greedy for outs when I tried to call a shutout. Mihashi ended up getting hit, including a home run, because of my game calling.” Kamon stared up at him with wide eyes, and Abe shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “Don’t mind it. Just get out there and focus on the inning right now. Watch out for that second hitter. He looks like he’s hungry for an inside ball, and Harada has a knack for placing those a little too well for the other team.”

“R-Right!” Kamon shouted, a grateful flush spreading on his cheeks as he grabbed his helmet and ran onto the field with Harada in tow. Behind him, Abe felt the approving stare of Momoe, and when he looked over his shoulder at her, she nodded with a smile on her face. He then saw that Mihashi was facing his direction, but when he looked and made to meet Mihashi’s gaze, the pitcher’s hazel eyes tore away and looked back to the field. Abe stared, knowing that if he waited long enough - ah, yes, there it was, Abe thought, watching as Mihashi flicked his eyes back to Abe’s and then jolted when he saw Abe staring at him. Abe put his hand to his mouth, unable to hide the quick snigger that came forth, and he turned his attention back to the game with a renewed fervor.

The fifth inning saw the first run of the game from Mihoshi, and then a second when the battery lost their unity from the pressure of the first run. Kamon went up to the mound, and Abe couldn’t tell what they were saying because of the mask covering his mouth. Whatever it was, it worked, because they struck out the next two batters looking. In the bottom of the fifth, Nishiura finally got a run, but a pop fly and a strike out from the pitcher’s screwball retired the inning with just the one point. The batter that got struck out returned to the dugout with a heavy head, but a slap on the back from Tajima and some mindless (but apparently encouraging) chirps from Mihashi had the boy standing straight again, determined to get back around to his next at-bat.

The game continued from that point in a similar fashion, until the bottom of the seventh inning came. Mihoshi’s pitcher threw a wild pitch after giving up a walk, and then the cleanup finally had a chance to shine with a triple that resulted in two runs, putting the score at 5-4 Nishiura. The fifth hole batter was struck out, but Abe grinned as he felt the momentum finally shift to their side after a game of playing catch up. Kamon and Harada ran out onto the field, toothy smiles electric and their pitches seamless through the eighth and ninth innings. When the last ball sounded in Kamon’s mitt, the dugout exploded with the excitement of the first years (and, Abe noticed, more than a couple of the second years). With a bow, the game was over, and with farewell partings and several phone numbers being exchanged, Abe walked with the rest of the Nishiura baseball team to the busses. 

Abe was the last one to get on the bus, as he took it upon himself to help Shinooka put the coolers in the back. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her arm, thanking him as she jogged over to the first year bus to be with Momoe. Satisfied with a good game and ready for dinner, Abe turned and stepped up onto the bus. He looked around for an empty seat, feeling a sting of disappointment when Mihashi was already sitting next to Tajima and the two of them were looking at something on Mihashi’s phone. Sakaeguchi had taken the seat next to Suyama, predictably, so Abe sighed and slid in next to Hanai.

“Don’t look too excited to sit next to me,” Hanai quipped as the bus rolled off, earning a bland stare. It was quiet for a few miles before Hanai decided it was apparently time to go into captain mode. “What did you think of the team?”

Abe rolled his head around his shoulders, wincing when he heard it crack. “They played pretty well. They’re weak on bunting, and Harada needs that fourth pitch for Kamon to do anything artful with his lead calling, but they’ll be good once we hit summer practice and they really get into shape.” Abe saw Hanai nod, and he snuck a look over his shoulder to where Mihashi and Tajima were still chattering on like elementary school kids on a field trip. Then again, Abe thought while exhaling and letting his head relax into the headrest, it was a better alternative than having him sulk all week. Though, according to Sakaeguchi, that was exactly what _he’d_ been doing. He felt the scowl on his face at the thought, but supposed it was true enough.

Dinner was more rambunctious than usual with the first years hyped up on their victory, and the meat disappeared with even more gusto than usual. They played a few games of freeze tag in the evening for a light cool down practice, took to the showers, and then disappeared into the bedrooms to set up their futons. Abe grabbed his, feeling the heavy mattress in his hands and tugging it into the corner so he’d have at least a little more room for his tossing and turning tonight. He grabbed his blanket and put it in place, then secured his pillow, and finally he collapsed on the softness and closed his eyes. The light went out, and it was a few minutes of everyone’s breaths evening out into obvious sleep before Abe opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling with frustration. He’d hoped that the energy of the game would have put him down for the count, but it didn’t seem like he as going to be so lucky.

Abe rolled over onto his side, but when his eyes locked with hazel, he froze in place. He stared at Mihashi, who was lying next to him with a somewhat nervous face. After a week of desperately wanting Mihashi to sleep next to him and being disappointed, seeing him after giving up was enough to make him completely forget everything he’d wanted to say. He thought about Mihashi’s expression on the field, how he’d never gotten to see his reaction to his apology, and he frowned, clutching his blanket closer to his chest.

“Mihashi - ” Abe started, falling silent immediately when there was movement. He relaxed when he realized it was just Mihashi, only to stare when he saw the blond slowly extend his hand out, palm facing Abe in the same gesture they used during their games. Abe stared, swallowed, then moved, reaching his left hand out and pressing his palm against Mihashi’s. They were the same temperature, both a bit cool, but as Abe stared, Mihashi moved his fingers so that they threaded with Abe’s, his hold firm and comforting.

“It’s okay,” Mihashi murmured, drawing Abe’s eyes to meet Mihashi’s. They were wide, but certain, and clear, and so very beautiful. Abe felt his throat tie into a knot as his toes curled underneath his blanket, his hold on Mihashi’s hand getting tighter as well. “It’s okay.”

_What’s okay,_ Abe wanted, _needed_ to ask, but his voice wasn’t working against the harmonious and exquisite silence between them. He watched as Mihashi closed his eyes and settled more comfortably into his pillow, but didn’t release Abe’s hand. Rather, he pulled their connection close, pulled himself closer, until Mihashi was right on the edge of his futon and he had their clasped hands pressed to his firm chest. Abe felt his whole body warm with this contentment that was almost perfect in every fiber of his body, and he stared with rapture as Mihashi’s muscles relaxed and his breath evened out. Abe followed suit, closing his eyes with the gentle wish that the afterimage of Mihashi’s sleepy smile would be burned onto the back of his eyelids for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at wordcount* *sweats* these chapters were supposed to be about four thousand each.... whoops.... 
> 
> anyway thank you as always for kudos and comments!! they really make my day something special and i appreciate you taking the time to reach out to me! I'm a little fuzzy on the ao3 etiquette of responding to messages but I read and treasure every single one, promise!


	4. Just One More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again everyone for kudos/comments!! I only hope to keep deserving all of them ahahaha

Staring across the field from the dugout, Abe could almost see the hunger in the eyes of each Urawa General player. They were fierce during fielding practice, throwing the ball hard and far before vacating for Nishiura’s first defense. Perhaps another day Abe would have felt even a little anxious, especially considering that Ura-Sou’s hit record was even better this year than it had been almost exactly one year ago, when he’d watched them in the stands with distant eyes. But today - and a glance to his excitedly vibrating pitcher revealed that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts - today, they were going to  _win_.

Abe caught the ball from Mihashi one last time, his eyes calculating every line of his pitcher’s stance. He was in good form too, Abe noted, thinking of his own peak performance from that morning and half his brother’s helping of eggs hanging pleasantly in his gut beside his own. It had earned him a swat of a newspaper to the back of his head, but the firecracker in his throwing arm made it worth it.

“First inning! Shut it down!” he shouted, basking in the return shout from his teammates as he crouched down and pulled his mask back over his face. The first batter approached the plate, bowing and getting into stance. He stood at the back of the box, arms relaxed and low; his data from the fall showed a preference for the inside but an ability to hit outside around the middle, and his stance so far confirmed it. Abe looked back to Mihashi, reaching between his legs and flashing a sign for a curve on the edge of the box, outside. Mihashi nodded, and Abe put his mitt in place. The wind up, a step, and the ball soared to hit square in the middle of Abe’s palm. Ball. The hitter hadn’t flinched. 

A shoot on the outside had his bat twitch, a soft sound of irritation hitting Abe’s ears as the umpire called it as a strike. He looked up at the batter and caught the frustration on his face just before it turned away and he set up again. Easy to rile up then, Abe noted, turning back to Mihashi and calling for a shoot tight on the inside, right in the batter’s favorite spot. After seeing a pitch outside, the batter was unable to catch up to the inside, and a second strike passed with the batter’s bat twitching but not swinging. Another angry noise, and when the fourth pitch came, it was a low slider that had the pitcher swinging too fast and too high. The third strike, and they were one step closer to victory. “One out!”

“Nice pitch!” Abe heard Sakaeguchi call to Mihashi, watching as Mihashi turned with his pointer finger in the air to call the out to the rest of the team. When he turned back, he had a pleasant expression on his face and a flush of happiness on his cheeks, and when Abe stood to throw him the ball, he was momentarily stunned by the bright smile Mihashi flashed from the mound. It was in this very stadium he told Mihashi to grin to piss off the batter, Abe thought, crouching back down and knowing that his mask hid his own curling lips but Mihashi would know, and judging from the look on his face when he catches the practice throw back, Abe was right. Their silent communication of hand signals and successful pitches stretched the eighteen and a half meters between them, as secure as if they were standing side by side, fingers interlocked and skin hot to the touch.

No matter what, they always had baseball.

\----------

“Ooh, Mihashi-senpai, that knuckleball in the ninth inning was sooooo cool, please, you gotta teach me how to do that, oh, and that bunt you made in the six inning that was almost foul but not really, oh man, you and Sakaeguchi-senpai have to teach me how to do that, and - ”

Abe groaned audibly, the high from winning their game against Ura-Sou deadening a bit with each jabber coming out of Harada’s mile-a-minute mouth. Walking next to him on their way from the post-game meeting to the bike rack, Hanai made a similar smothered noise in his hand, and Abe shared a look of desperate annoyance between the two of them.  _What did we do to deserve this,_ Hanai’s expression screamed with the tick at the corner of his mouth, and Abe hoped that Hanai got his return message of  _dear God I don’t know but please let it stop_ in every line he could feel between his eyebrows. Right when he was about to turn and stop the idiot Harada from completely ruining the endorphins of victory, a sharp warning glance from hazel eyes stopped him dead in his metaphorical tracks and he felt his mouth snap shut instantly. 

“Whoa, Mihashi, you gotta teach me how to do that!” Tajima exclaimed, wringing his arm around the pitcher’s neck and rubbing his freckled cheek against Mihashi’s reddening match. He pointed to Abe, a shit-eating grin about to split his face. “Oh man, that was so cool! He snapped shut like a turtle!”

“Tajima,” Hanai said in a threatening tone, fingers clutching at what was probably a throbbing headache by now. Abe’s temple jumped twice in empathy.

“Oh, come on, Hanai, you saw that! Mihashi just  _looked_  at him and  _pow_ , strike out! They’re doing that cool battery thing and I wanna learn it too! Come on, Mihashi, I catch for you sometimes, right?” Mihashi was cherry red at this point, and poor Harada looked absolutely starstruck, his hands resting on his cheeks as he gaped at Mihashi with galaxies swimming in his irises.

“S-Senpai, is it true?! I wanna learn, too! I want to see Kamon be a turtle, too!”

Abe whipped around, feeling the embarrassment searing his cheeks and the back of his neck at the fact that a single chastising look from Mihashi could get him not to say something rude to someone. Granted, mostly it was the shock that Mihashi even  _had_  an expression like that to make, Abe thought grudgingly, and  _honestly_  it would have been for his benefit too because there was  _no way_  Harada wasn’t annoying  _him_  the most. But then, Abe sneakily looked over his shoulder again, watching Mihashi’s face as he stood next to the pestering fly of an underclassman, and although he was obviously strained, Mihashi was listening to every word, nodding when appropriate and even offering a few stuttered, soft responses. Abe blinked, because a sudden and bizarre thought ticked his mind, something akin to when Sakaeguchi had told Abe his theory about Mihashi being ignored in middle school, and, well, maybe Mihashi just didn’t want Harada to feel ignored - but, no, Abe thought, looking back to the road in front of him. He was probably reading too much into Mihashi’s actions, and he was probably just loving the attention. It wasn’t every day that Mihashi had someone feeding so directly into his ego,  and honestly the pitcher needed any boost to his self-confidence that he could get.

By the time they reached the bike rack outside the school, Abe was more than a little tired and dreading the homework he was going to have to do after his bath. He dropped his bag in the basket and then bent down to unlock the chain, Harada still somehow managing to natter to Mihashi the entire time. He wondered what his mom was making for dinner, and the thought made his stomach growl with the realization that one and a half rice balls at the end of a game day had definitely not been enough, and even though he didn’t regret it because Mihashi needed the other half more than he did, it still sucked in the moment.

“Is Abe-kun hungry?” Mihashi asked, pushing his bike next to Abe down the street. Abe blinked, looking up, then back over his shoulder, stricken by the sudden silence around them. He hadn’t been trapped in his thoughts  _that_  much, had he? “Harada-kun goes the other way from school.”

“Oh,” Abe answered unintelligently, because honestly he hadn’t ever really noticed which way any of the others went home when they weren’t going together, before remembering that Mihashi had asked him another question as well. “Yeah, I could use a snack. I’ll probably just get something from a vending machine on my way home.”

Mihashi looked down at his feet, then back up to Abe’s bike basket. “Um… maybe we could stop and get some meat buns, at that one convenience store?” Abe knew the one Mihashi was talking about, since he stopped in there every once in a while on his way to school on the off days when he forgot to grab a bento for lunch. It was right at the split where he and Mihashi went their separate ways to bike home, and not too far from where they were now.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds like a good idea,” Abe agreed, not ignorant of the way that Mihashi seemed to glow a bit at his positive response, but definitely confused by it. Then again, Abe thought, Mihashi had probably just wanted meat buns and didn’t want to go in by himself, or maybe he didn’t have money on him and was hoping that Abe would offer to pay, or maybe he was hoping Abe would buy two and offer up half of his like his rice ball earlier. The boy had a hollow leg when it came to food, after all. Well, he was sorely mistaken on that last one, Abe thought while resting a hand on his growling stomach. Affection only went so far in a teenage boy.

They walked together in the new silence after Tajima rushed home and Harada left their presence, and Abe enjoyed the sound of Mihashi’s soft footsteps and the clinking of their bikes along the street. A cat meowed somewhere off someone’s balcony, asking to be let in, and more than one home had wind chimes going off in the late summer evening breeze. Abe took in a deep breath, feeling his chest expand, and let it loose, a strange contentment spreading over his being at the current moment’s state.

“You played really well today,” he said, looking over to Mihashi in time to catch a pink blush and a flustered smile. “Make sure to go home and rest and eat a lot, though. Day after tomorrow, we’re going to have a real fight.”

“A-against… Senda…” Mihashi replied, eyes falling down to his hands where they gripped his handlebars tightly. “We’re… going to win that one, too! And the next, and all of them, until the summer, and then, we’ll…”

“Beat them all again and go to Koshien?” Abe finished, feeling the wicked grin on his face even as he heard it in his own tone. But Mihashi just nodded vigorously, eyes sparkling and face glowing with excitement. Abe felt a rush in his body again, the same feeling that he got right after the final strike was called in their game that afternoon, and he could suddenly remember absolutely everything perfectly from the feel of the ball in his palm to the grit of the dirt beneath his cleats, the wide hazel eyes across the diamond and the silent acknowledgement of victory between them louder than the roar of the crowd. It felt good to talk to Mihashi about winning baseball, made him feel good to see Mihashi’s happy face at the thought of victory, too. An irresistible feeling.

The convenience store was still open, and Abe released a small breath of relief for not having to wait another half hour to get home for food. “Here, stay with the bikes,” he said to Mihashi, propping his up on its kickstand and starting towards the sliding door. 

“B-but - ”

“You just want a meat bun, right? I’ll be right back.” Abe left a spluttering Mihashi and stepped in the bright store, going to the small display of food and grabbing two steamy meat buns. He slipped them in a little paper bag, then walked over to the cashier. Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, he paid for both, then walked outside and handed Mihashi one of them while sinking his teeth into his own. He chewed quickly and swallowed the first bite in a rush, humming pleasantly when the hunger pangs went away immediately. 

“Thank you, Abe-kun… But you didn’t have to pay for mine, too…” Mihashi said after swallowing his first bite, and Abe made a soft noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. 

“You can get it next time.” He heard a soft squeak, and looked over to see Mihashi looking very pleased again. Abe didn’t blame him, and took another bite of the food while walking his bike with one hand in the middle of the handlebar. When he finished, he took the paper bag and wadded it up, throwing it in his bike basket to toss in the garbage when he got home. 

The walk to where they split was only a minute away, and Abe paused to see Mihashi putting the last bite of his meat bun in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He had crumbs all over his mouth, and a tug of affection pulled at Abe’s gut. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand reached over, grabbing Mihashi’s chin. “You’re like a little bird, getting crumbs all over the place,” he murmured, using his thumb to clear the area around Mihashi’s mouth. He was half-surprised that Mihashi didn’t blush and pull away from the motion, but the blond probably thought it was one of those things Abe did to take care of him. He let his thumb brush over Mihashi’s lips one last time, no crumbs to be found, just an aching softness and a sudden reminder that while their communication was obviously flawless in baseball, there was a heavy secret between the two of them that was still undiscussed.

There was a moment, maybe even two, where Abe considered talking about it now. He wasn’t ravenously hungry anymore because of the meat bun, and even though he was still a good half hour from home, he could wait his dinner long enough to make sure that he was still okay with Mihashi, ask him what that last night of training camp had meant, and maybe if he was lucky find out if Mihashi’s lips were as soft against his own as they were against the pad of his thumb. But then, he remembered about an hour’s worth of homework, and that his hour of homework would be two hours for Mihashi, and his pitcher needed all the rest he could get because the day after tomorrow they were going after one of the power houses of Saitama, and that was enough to have Abe’s hand falling back to his side, tongue pressed hard to the roof of his mouth and spine creaking to pull back from where he’d been unknowingly hovering over Mihashi just enough to have leaned in for a kiss. He felt the flash of irritation, because the  _last_  thing he needed was to have something else between them like a kiss without definition, and he  _really_  needed to talk about the clubhouse incident before he did something stupid like that, and clearly the rush of hormones from winning the game that afternoon was affecting him more strongly than he’d realized.

“Don’t stay up too late doing homework,” Abe said, proud of the fact that his tone sounded more even than he’d expected with the tight knot he was having to talk around in his throat. “We can finish it this weekend if we need to, and your sleep is more important tonight.”

“Okay,” Mihashi responded, voice soft and immediate, matching his wide eyes and his flushed cheeks, and yeah, there was no way he’d missed the mood between them just now, Abe thought hotly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Abe-kun.”

Abe watched as Mihashi mounted his bike and pedaled off, and suddenly he was surrounded by a cacophony of noises as someone clanged the lid of their garbage can, and the soft music from the convenience store rang in his head with the taste of meat bun and the perplexing lonely chill of his lips against the hot night air.

When he did finally get home, his mother swatted him with a newspaper again, warning him that taking Shun’s eggs the next morning would mean a week of toilet-cleaning duty. Abe grumbled something in response, earning another swat from the newspaper, and finally he apologized and then excused himself upstairs to put his bag down before dinner. He came back down and took his usual seat across from his father and next to his brother, grabbing his chopsticks and looking down at the food in front of him. It was as tasty as ever, but the taste of meat bun lingered on the back of his throat even through the intense garlic his mom loved to use, and it wasn’t until he took a piece of ginger and cleaned his palate that it went away.

“Takaya, can you help me with my math homework tonight?” Shun asked, kicking his feet under the table. Abe agreed, partially because it helped keep him on his toes with the basics to help his brother, and also partially to appease his mother’s anger and maybe make her less newspaper-happy, since he was definitely going to be eating Shun’s portions of eggs the day after tomorrow.

Abe sat down at the small table in his room while his brother took the spot next to him, pulling out a sheet of paper that had several math problems on it. They were pretty simple, save for the last two, and Abe grabbed a pencil and a scrap sheet of paper to explain to his brother how to solve them. He wrote down the formula, and Shun identified each of the variables for the first problem. He mixed up two, but Abe set him right, then watched as his brother solved the problem slowly, but correctly. Abe watched as Shun set up the second problem, taking a sip of tea.

“Are you okay, Takaya?” Shun asked suddenly, causing Abe to make a confused noise as he put his tea back down on the table and stared blankly at his brother. “Well, you’ve been acting kinda weird lately like. Some days you come home and you’re really happy, and some days you’re really mad, and it’s just… weird. Are you being bullied at school?”

“No, I’m not being bullied at school!” Abe yelled, gripping his brother’s hair tightly in a hold. “What remotely makes you think that?!”

“Okay, okay, sorry, geez,” Shun grumbled, rubbing his head sorely and going back to his math homework. Abe took a long sip of his tea, scowling ferociously at the sheet of paper. Ever since his brother had starting going to batting practice with Tajima on the off occasion, he’d gotten real nosy in Abe’s business, and it was starting to get annoying. It was his only relief that Shun had gone to a different high school in the opposite direction, so at least he didn’t have to worry about him during the day. Then again, Abe mused, feeling his face fall into a more neutral expression, he was probably just trying to be nice, in his own little brother way, and Abe  _had_  kind of been an emotional wreck for the past two weeks or so. He looked back to Shun’s homework and paid extra attention on the last two problems, making sure his little brother got them right so he would get full marks.

Ten minutes of Shun’s math and an hour of his own homework later, Abe grabbed his pajamas and walked over to the bathroom for a soak in the bathtub before bed. He turned on the hot water and brushed his teeth while he was waiting. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it in the hamper, then his pants and boxers, and finally the white socks that were mismatched in length but he wore anyway. He stepped into the bath, wincing a bit at the heat against his tired muscles, then sank in up to his chest and exhaled in pleasure. When the water was up to his collarbone, he reached over and turned the tap to stop the water, then leaned back and stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes. His first thought was of the moment of victory over Ura-Sou that afternoon, and slowly he went over the pitch calling as a form of relaxation, remembering every ball that hit his mitt and how each batter had responded. How Mihashi had responded. 

He’d shaken his head at Abe twelve times today, Abe noted, opening his eyes again and feeling even more tension slip out of his muscles before he sighed and sank deep into the water up to his nose. He remembered back to their practice game with Touri, the white hot jealousy that had burned him from inside when Tajima had told Mihashi that they were going to  _work together now_ , and Mihashi’s bright and excited little chirp of pleasure to be counted on. It had hurt, at the time, he recalled, still feeling a distant pang of guilt resonate in his chest because after all, it had been his fault that their battery had been so messed up from the beginning. But he’d apologized for it, earned himself periodic smiles that whited out his vision as a reward, and even though he paid the penance with moments like the practice game against Touri, their battery was better than ever and something he treasured above anything else.

“Takaya, are you almost done? I wanna take a bath too!” Abe blinked his eyes open, then sighed and stood out of the water. 

“Yeah, give me a second,” Abe responded to his brother, taking the towel and drying off his hair and body with rough rubs. His skin was pink from the heat, but it felt good, he felt clean. He pulled on his boxers and the shirt he’d grabbed for bed, foregoing the pants for now since he was a little too warm for them. A rub on the head for Shun as he walked by served as a good night, earning a disgruntled squawk that reminded him of a noise Mihashi might make. He fell into his bed at last, tossing the unused pajama pants off to the side, and then rolled onto his back to grab his phone. He pulled up his contacts and stared at Mihashi’s name, wondering if he was asleep, if he’d get a text, if it would be  _weird_ to text him goodnight when they’d already said it in person and he’d never sent Mihashi a goodnight text before, and why was he suddenly hit with the urge to do so, and ten thousand other thoughts until he closed his phone and put it on his bedside table, away from where he would stare at it when he should be sleeping. He set his alarm and then closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he was asleep, a lingering excitement that today, they had made the spring best eight.

\----------

The next day went by painfully slowly after Abe finished practice and went to class. His mind was half on the material on the board and the slow drawl of his Japanese teacher, and the other half of his brain was intently focused on recreating the diagrams he needed to simplify for Mihashi’s sake if he had any hopes of them going over the information with the pitcher that afternoon in practice. By the time lunch time came around, he was more than mentally frazzled and ready to get out on the field to take out his frustration at the batting machines.

“So, you excited for tomorrow?” Mizutani asked, pulling up his desk and pulling out his bento. Abe nodded, sticking a straw in his milk box and taking a small sip. Hanai was to his left and Shinooka across from him, the four of them having taken to eating together since their conversation often turned to baseball and they’d ended up in the same class together again.

Abe took a bite of his lunch as Mizutani started talking a mile a minute to Shinooka, quietly munching next to an equally quiet Hanai, until there was a small tap on his shoulder. Looking up from his lunch box to Hanai, he followed the direction of the captain’s chin jerk towards the door to their classroom and swallowed when Mihashi stood there, wringing his hands in his shirt and looking rather troubled. Abe chose not to comment on the fact that it was obvious from the four of them who Mihashi wanted to talk to, and instead gestured for his pitcher to come in. “What’s up?” he asked, taking another bite of his lunch and waiting.

“I, uh… Left my English book at home, and I was wondering if I could borrow yours,” Mihashi asked, a light flash of embarrassed pink on his face. 

“Whoa, you take your books home now?” Mizutani said, causing Mihashi to turn an even brighter red as he stammered a defensive response.

“Yes! I d-don’t want… to be troublesome, if I fail, so I…” he started, trailing off and looking to Abe with a hopeful expression. Abe didn’t even bother faking an exasperated sigh, and instead just reached into his bag and pulled out the English book they’d used that morning in class. He handed it to Mihashi, who clutched it to his chest like it was a precious gift. In return, Abe blinked into one of those sun-powered smiles, the happy chirp of “Thank you, Abe-kun! You’re amazing!” pulling his stomach into a knot that had his ears burning red at the tips and an answering curl to his own lips, because it was really impossible anymore for him  _not_  to smile back at Mihashi.

“Don’t worry about bringing it back during a break. I’ll get it during practice later,” he said, reaching up and knocking Mihashi’s head lightly with a knuckle. “My notes are in there, too. Go ahead and make a copy.”

“Okay!” Mihashi responded, and then as if he suddenly realized he had other teammates besides Abe in the classroom, Mihashi looked at them and blurted out a hello before he turned and turned down the hall to his class. Abe watched him go, then turned back to his lunch, somehow feeling considerably lighter than he did at the beginning of his meal and not really knowing why.

“You really are sweet to him, Abe-kun,” Shinooka said, causing Abe to halt mid-bite, chopsticks in front of his mouth as he stared at her in shock from her sudden comment. “You know. If it was Tajima-kun or Izumi-kun coming to ask for your textbook, you’d get all grumpy and tell them no.”

“Oh, everyone knows that Mihashi’s got Abe whipped,” Mizutani teased, causing a flash of hot embarrassment to flicker deep in Abe’s gut. He felt the furious pull of his mouth, but knew that it was nowhere near as effective as normal since he could feel the heat on his cheeks to match the earlier heat on his ears, and God, this was totally not the reaction he should be having.

“What the hell does that even  _mean_?!” Abe ground out before turning back to his lunch, hunching over and trying his best to ignore Shinooka’s laugh mixing with Hanai’s and Mizutani’s. The rest of lunch, Abe pointedly refused to say absolutely anything, though the amused looks he got told him that he was probably doing more harm than good at this point, but Abe was stubborn if nothing else, and when the lunch bell rang, he turned back around towards the front of the room with as sour an expression as he’d had since Mizutani had crushed the good feelings he’d gotten from Mihashi’s spontaneous visit. 

Just thinking about the blond pulling his textbook out and copying his notes, however, had his brow relaxing just a bit and his shoulders becoming not so tense, and the expression on Mihashi’s face as he would be able to answer questions (well, maybe) because he had a textbook, and how he would be sitting just two rooms away and… and maybe thinking about him,  _‘Thank you, Abe-kun… I love you, Abe-kun… Takaya is amazing…’_  And then Abe had that strange knot in his throat again, and suddenly he remembered exactly how Mihashi’s lips had felt under his fingers, and his own felt very lonely on his face, and a silent promise to himself that as soon as they won the game against Senda he was going to talk to Mihashi and get things straight crossed his mind, if nothing else than to allow him to focus on his studies again instead of doodling little birds and scribbling ‘Mihashi Takaya’ in the margin of his math notes (that he was now going to have to recopy before he could let Mihashi borrow them… as if he didn’t already have enough to do). 

Well. He’d already have to copy them over, he mused, indulging himself one last doodle before he snapped his mind back to the lesson.

 

_Ren_ _♥_ _Takaya_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts a hand on abe's shoulder* son. you're gay


	5. Post Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UWAH thank you everyone for comments and kudos and messages on tumblr and basically all of those cool things where you tell me how cool this fic is YEAH!! I hope to keep earning those - v- Also sorry the update took so long but, you know. Pacific Rim AU ate my life over the weekend, so.

Abe pulled his mask off numbly, his stomach somewhere around his knees as he stared at the scoreboard. The roar of the crowd slowly filtered back into his ears, thundering around them as the feeling slowly came back to his body in the form of aching frustration. One more out was all they’d needed, two innings they’d been holding this lead, and damn it he’d  _known_  this batter liked the inside corner in every other game he’d played even though he’d been favoring the outside today. He’d known he was capable of a home run.

Abe’s gaze quickly fell to the umpire, who nodded when he called for a time out. The booming voice echoed out to the field behind him, but Abe was jogging up to the mound where Mihashi looked absolutely mortified. Abe was already taking his glove off before he got to the mound, tucking it under his arm and reaching out before he was even in range. Conditioned, Mihashi lifted his own hand, eyes staring hard at the curly letters on Abe’s chest. His palm was a good bit colder than Abe’s own, his palm sweating, and it was visible how much he was shaking even before Abe felt the quivers against his skin. “Mihashi,” he said, frowning a bit when there was no real response. “Mihashi.” A year ago, he would have yelled. He would have been impatient and frustrated. Today, he softened his voice, surprised even himself as he takes his fingers and threads them with Mihashi’s, squeezing the pitcher’s hand even more tightly. This pulled Mihashi’s eyes up to his at last, wide and terrified like a small animal.

“I’m sorry,” Mihashi whispered. His voice was a pathetic whisper, and Abe tightened his hold on Mihashi’s hand probably to the point of pain. “I got hit. A home run.”

“It was my bad lead, Mihashi,” Abe said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the ambient noises in the stadium. Mihashi was still shaking, his face still flushed despite the fact that Abe was pretty sure he was about as nervous as he’d ever been. Exertion, Abe noted with a wince, because he’d been making Mihashi make tight calls the entire game, had been forced to push him harder than ever before, and here they were even with this at a tie looking at overtime to break it. “Let’s get this out and retire the inning, okay?”

Mihashi swallowed thickly and finally gripped Abe’s hand back. Abe smiled, then dropped Mihashi’s hand and ran back to home plate. As he pulled his mask down, he let the curl of his lips fall while he got into a crouch and looked at his pitcher. He was breathing heavily, Abe noted, not unlike he’d performed in their game against Tosei. Their next game would be the day after tomorrow, he thought grittily as the next batter came to the plate and tapped his shoes to get rid of the dirt. A thought crossed his mind, and he felt the painful twist in his stomach as it formed past a thought into a decision.

They needed to pull Mihashi from the game.

Abe looked up at the batter as he pulled the bat around his head and prepared for the pitch. He’d been on the top of his game, watching all but the closest balls go by without a twitch of the bat and going for each strike as it had appeared. He had good eyes, Abe grudgingly admitted, and Mihashi was getting tired. Abe reached between his legs, signaling for a curveball right on the edge of the box, the borderline between ball and strike that could be called either way but would be difficult to hit. Mihashi nodded, stood, and wound up. A burst of exertion, and the bat in front of Abe’s face twitched slightly. 

“Strike!” the umpire called, and Abe felt the gust of air leave his chest. That had definitely been a borderline call in their favor, he thought, throwing the ball back to Mihashi and looking to the batter. He was unfazed, hands readjusting his grip as he settled back into place. Senda could afford to go into extra innings, and even though Nishiura was no longer just a team of first years, they wouldn’t manage well without their starting line up. Still, Abe thought as he reached down and signed for another curveball, this time cutting deep inside near the batter’s knees, they needed Mihashi to be at the top of his game for their next match. Depending on who won the next round, they’d either be going against ARC or Bijou, and neither opponent was one they could manage without Mihashi in top form. 

“Ball!” Abe cursed under his breath at the umpire’s call, throwing the ball back and looking over to the dugout. Harada was hanging over the rail, shouting encouragement at Mihashi, bursting with energy. Energy that wasn’t Mihashi’s, but unfortunately that also didn’t have Mihashi’s skill driving it. “Strike!” 

Abe turned his attention back to Mihashi, who was panting hard on the mound. It wasn’t surprising; it was hot and humid, and the crowd was mostly Senda fans calling for a hit to win the game, and Abe knew that Mihashi was feeling the pressure. Abe reached down, flashing his fingers for the pitch that would let them keep playing. Fastball, straight down the middle. 

He saw the flash of fear in Mihashi’s eyes, saw the way his neck twitched as if to prepare to shake his head, but he stood and nodded, right hand gripping the ball tightly against his glove. The windup, and then Mihashi pitched, and Abe felt every muscle in his body get ready to spring into action because he could see the bat swinging - a crack of noise. Abe stood, tearing the mask off his face and watching the ball fly to the outfield. Hanai was sprinting as hard as he could, a leap, and with a slide across the grass, he sat up to show a ball on the tip of his glove.

“Out!” the umpire shouted, and Abe clutched his knees weakly in relief. He stood as quickly as he could manage after catching his breath, jogging back to the dugout just in time to run into Mihashi doing the same. His shoulders were moving, his face flushed and dripping with sweat, but he looked to be in decent condition. No worse than the day they’d won against Tosei. A flicker of hesitation tickled his mind, because they  _had_  won against Tosei, and Senda was in the same league and they could win with Mihashi, but they  _needed_  Mihashi in the next game. He’d lost six kilos after the Tosei game, he fiercely reminded himself, and that was enough. 

“Coach!” he said, before he could convince himself to change his mind. Remembered his injury against Bijou, the guilt for his focus on that one ball wrecking everything. He couldn’t focus on the immediate. He needed to focus on the next play, the next game, the season to come. They’d promised each other. He walked up to Momoe, who had an expression on her face like she knew what he was going to say. “I think we should switch Mihashi out.”

“Wh… what?!” Harada gaped, Mihashi standing next to him with an open mouth of shock. As he’d expected, Momoe’s face didn’t change. “Abe-senpai, what - !?”

“We need him in top condition for the next round,” Abe explained quickly, looking to his faint-looking blond pitcher and realizing that he needed to do some quick damage control if the sick look on his face was anything to go by. “You’re doing great, Mihashi. We need you for the next game and we can’t afford to have you burn out today and cost us the next round.” Mihashi gulped, squawking as he opened his mouth and tried to speak. “We start the tenth inning at the top of our batting lineup. We’ll score two runs, and that’ll let Harada have the room to give up a single run and let us win.”

“Nnnnnnnn…” Mihashi whined, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into tight fists. He was wanting to say no; Abe could see it in his eyes, knew that every fiber of his body was absolutely against it. He reached out his left hand and wrapped it around Mihashi’s right fist, drawing Mihashi’s shimmering gaze to his own. Ah, shit, he was trying not to cry, too.

“We need you in the next game, Mihashi,” Abe said, forcing his voice to be as soft and comforting as possible. He leaned in, sending as much of his body heat to Mihashi as he could give, peering at Mihashi’s quivering hazel eyes beneath the brim of his baseball hat and hoping he was conveying his intentions at least a little bit. “We’re counting on you to win.”

Mihashi trembled beneath his touch, his lips pressed hard together, and he didn’t say yes, he didn’t make a sound, but he nodded once, eyes falling to stare at Abe’s collarbones. Abe turned to Momoe, who gave him a proud smile before turning to Harada, who looked rather pale himself. “You can do this, Harada-kun. Count on your teammates to help you.”

Harada opened his mouth and a squeak came out. He flared bright red, then looked to Abe. “Let’s go warm up, Abe-senpai!” he said, and Abe turned his face back to Mihashi to see that he was still staring steadily downwards, mouth unsmiling and firm. Slowly, Abe peeled his hand away from Mihashi’s and took a step back, an agonizing feel as though he was leaving half of himself behind coursing through him as he turned on his heel and went to the bullpen. He pulled his mask on over his face, knowing they had only until the bottom of the tenth inning to get Harada warmed up sufficiently.

He was a good pitcher, Abe noted while catching each warm up pitch. Would definitely have been the starter if not for Mihashi. He had good speed and good enough accuracy for most high school pitchers, though Abe had to move the glove to correct to the pitch almost every time. It was an odd sensation, after catching for Mihashi. There was a crack of the bat, and Abe looked to see that Izumi had managed to get on base. Sakaeguchi pulled a successful sac bunt, coming back to the dugout and disappearing where Abe couldn’t see. The baseball hit heavily in his palm, and he wondered what expression Mihashi was making right now. 

Suyama swung at a tough ball, getting a strike that should have been a ball. The second strike came, and Abe bit fiercely at his lip as the pitcher wound up for the third pitch. Ball, the umpire called, and then the fourth. Suyama pulled and cracked the bat against the ball, and Izumi ran. The ball fell right on the foul line, earning them a runner on first and third, one out, and Hanai up to bat. 

“Come on, Hanai,” Abe ground out. He wanted to make his call to pull Mihashi out of the game mean something, needed them to win so Mihashi could prove himself in the next game. Knew they needed to win for Mihashi. With a crack, Hanai placed a beautiful hit to the far left field, allowing Izumi to score as Suyama took second and Hanai claimed first. With Tajima in the box next, they could probably score at least one more, Abe figured as he walked back to the dugout with Harada in case his own up-to-bad came around. Though, next was Oki, and he’d been dominated most of the game by the nasty screwball the pitcher had for lefty batters.

Abe watched with nervousness wriggling in his gut as Tajima only managed a single, loading the bases with Oki at bat. Mizutani was sitting in the batter’s box, hand clutched tightly around his bat, watching as Oki looked to Suyama and then back to the pitcher. Third base runner. 

A fastball down the middle and Oki swung, though it was late. He hit a grounder that flew to first, getting himself out, and the first baseman rallied to second, getting Tajima out and retiring the inning before Suyama could make it home. Abe clenched a fist, looking to Harada where the boy was shaking with nerves. He’d done well in his practice game against Mihoshi, but this was an official game against Senda. It would be tight.

Abe jogged out to home base, warming himself and Harada up. “Shut them down!” he shouted out to the field before settling into his crouch. Harada looked at him, no longer trembling but definitely nervous. He was one of those types who freaked out after the pressure, then, Abe noted, watching as the next Senda batter came. He watched the first pitch, getting a strike that would have been a ball if Mihashi had been on the mound pitching. Abe mentally shook his head, because he wasn’t catching for Mihashi right now, he was catching for Harada, and he needed to focus. The batter was feeling Harada out, he figured, and decided to take advantage of that by calling for another strike. Instead of the precise nine-partition calling, he called for a fastball, inside. It was about as much accuracy as Harada could manage. 

The batter swung and connected, sending the ball out to Izumi, who rallied it to Oki a fraction of a second too late. Runner on first, no outs, Abe seethed, getting back into position. The second batter, the top of Senda’s lineup, showed a bunt, and Abe pulled a sign to the infielders alerting them of a possible incoming sac bunt. They shifted positions, but when the bunt went down, it came in front of Harada, not Tajima. Harada sprang into action, and Abe stood, pointing to first. “Throw to first!” he shouted, gritting his teeth as they managed to get the bunter out but now had a runner on second with one out. Excellently done, he grudgingly admitted. The third batter waited on the first two pitches, both balls, and fouled the third. Abe hissed when the fourth pitch came out of Harada’s hand as a ball when it should have been a strike, and a second foul came off the fifth pitch. The sixth resulted in a grounder that shot between Suyama and Sakaeguchi, resulting in one out and a runner on third and first.

Abe swore mentally, pulling his mask back over his head as he stared at Harada. They could do this, Abe thought, lifting his glove as the fourth batter settled into place. They could do this. They could beat Senda and make the top two in the Spring tournament. With Mihashi, they would win the next game and start the Summer tournament as an A-seed that would save them the chance of getting paired with a difficult team until later in the tournament after Mihashi would have a chance to recuperate fully from the Spring tournament. They could do this.

A crack of the bat, and the ball fouled just by Abe’s head. He twisted out of the way, then exhaled and settled back into position. He needed to focus, he soured, putting everything into this inning. Another pitch, and the batter connected, sending it just over Harada’s head. The pitcher reached up but missed the catch, and Abe stood as he ripped the mask off. “To home!” he shouted, staring at the ball as the third base runner sprinted in the corner of his eyes. Sakaeguchi had managed to catch the ball with a spectacular jump, getting the batter out, but his throw to home came a split second too late because of the height of the ball’s trajectory. Senda had scored, and now had two outs with a runner on second and their cleanup coming. Abe called for a pitch, and with the sound of a bat hitting the ball that rang clear through the stadium, the ball left the batter’s box and soared, hitting the top of the fence at the back of the outfield for one last home run. 

They’d lost in a ten-inning game, 9-7. 

Abe stared at the scoreboard, stunned. The thought that he should have walked the cleanup came to mind, because he’d known that the player had definitely had the power to knock it out of the park if the pitch was good enough. It hadn’t been a concern with Mihashi, who could curve his balls in such a manner that there would never be a pitch good enough, but… but what? He’d been calling the game like it was Mihashi on the mound, he’d gotten used to calling the game like it was Mihashi on the mound. He’d just cost them the game and the Spring Tournament calling for the game like Mihashi was the one on the mound.

Abe ran to where their teams had lined up and bowed with the others, thanking Senda for a good game. And then the cheering squad, the crying mothers and friends, and then they were plodding to the dugout, sniffles and sobs echoing around as they collected their things and got ready to go back to school to have a post-game meeting. Abe looked up, looked for blond, needed those hazel eyes, but couldn’t find them. He slipped out of the dugout into the locker room where it was attached, followed the soft muffled noises of sobbing until he found the back corner away from the showers. In that moment, Abe felt his heart break. 

Mihashi was huddled against himself, knees pressed to his chest and eyes pouring tears as the palms of his hand pressed hard against them. His shoulders were quaking and he wasn’t making much noise, just enough for Abe’s chest to ache with guilt. Slowly, Mihashi looked up, sniffling when he saw Abe. “We lost,” he said, hiccuping slightly, and Abe felt the teeth of agony bite even harder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clenching his fist tight against his thigh. He clenched his hands as tightly as he could, quivering with emotion, and he stared hard down at the tile of the locker room, wondering how he could apologize to his pitcher for letting them lose the game. Mihashi had been  _counting_ on him, damn it, and he’d messed it up. He’d let Mihashi down. And then there was movement, and softness and warmth and Abe closed his eyes and accepted Mihashi’s arms around him, wrapped his own around Mihashi, and smothered his face in blond hair as the tears started to leak out at last. He clutched Mihashi tighter, until he was sobbing, his whole body aching with sadness that he’d told Mihashi he would let them win and instead he’d let them down. 

There was a split second of doubt where he wondered if he’d made the right call pulling Mihashi out of the game. They might have won, Abe thought, sniffling and frowning as he realized that no, that was wrong. They had made a promise at the end of their first summer, together, after all. They were going to get strong together, and that meant that neither of them could get hurt anymore. They only had three years to play together, and every moment of their well-being was precious and to be guarded at the expense of a run, of a game, even of a tournament. Abe trembled at the thought that he barely dared to acknowledge in his mind, that he’d give up going to Koushien if it meant Mihashi would never get hurt. No, he’d done the right thing by protecting Mihashi and putting Harada in the game. He’d do it again.

As Abe pulled out of himself, he realized that he was not alone, that Mihashi’s fingers were tight in his shirt and pulling him close, and Abe could feel on his shoulder the place where his jersey was wet. He cradled Mihashi, ran his hands soothingly down Mihashi’s back from shoulder blades to hips, then back up, finding comfort by giving it. And then, a quiet voice in the crook of his neck, almost too muffled to make out had it not been right by his ear. “I hated it.”

“Getting pulled out of the game?” Abe asked, staring at the lockers over his pitcher’s shoulder. He’d known that Mihashi hated giving up the mound and he’d asked it of him anyway. Guilt twisted his stomach again. But then, there was a soft movement against his shoulder, and Mihashi was shaking his head, pulling back, hazel eyes shimmering with tears but his mouth firm.

“Y-yes, but… more than that…” he started, his voice cracking as his eyes welled up with tears again. “I hated… seeing Abe-kun catch for someone else.”

Abe lost all the breath out of his body like he’d been punched in the gut. His hands moved, cupping Mihashi’s jaw, pulling that face up to look at his because this was  _important_ , damn it. “Mihashi,” Abe said, tone sharp even to his own ears. He was a part of only one battery, no matter who was pitching. There was only one person with whom he was of one body and soul. “No matter who is standing on that mound,  _you’re_  my pitcher. You’re Nishiura’s ace, no one else.” 

He felt the hitch in Mihashi’s breath, saw the way his eyes widened and his face flushed with pleasure. Fingers released his shirt, came around, trailed up the back of his neck with prickling movements until they were twisting urgently in his hair. “Again,” Mihashi whispered, licking his lips and quivering more in Abe’s arms. Every breath of air that had escaped Abe came back in a rush and held tight in his lungs. He felt his lips part, wondered if he could change the inflection in his sentence, if he was allowed to say it the way he wanted to say it, was too dizzy to think straight before he did it anyway.

“You’re  _my_  pitcher,” he said again, and before his eyes, he saw Mihashi burn. A soft sound of need and want escaped his pitcher’s lips, his face flushed red and coming forward, until Abe closed his eyes at the fiery heat pressed hard against his shoulder. Mihashi swayed in his arms, and then Abe hissed in a breath because Mihashi rubbed against him, once, inquisitively, and it was enough. There was one last blistering thought, that he really needed to yell at Mihashi for forgetting to wear a cup again, but then he was shuffling forward one step, two, and then the chilled metal of the lockers pressed into his palms where he’d boxed Mihashi in, his body arching against Mihashi’s in steady waves.

Abe groaned into the locker room, felt Mihashi clutch him at the sound, heard the shushing noise against his ear before Mihashi’s lips parted and teeth snagged on the lobe. His toes curled in his shoes, knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Abe released the lockers, hands clutching Mihashi’s thin hips and dragging them closer as he rolled his forward. He was on fire, his gut twisting in ten different directions as his thumbs found Mihashi’s belt loops and used them for an anchor for his quickly drowning consciousness. He was achingly hard, the cup pressing into his erection uncomfortably, but stopping to pull it out would mean  _stopping_ , which was absolutely impossible for him anymore. He moved harder, more rhythmically, until Mihashi’s hand clutched tight in his hair and his free hand reached around to clutch Abe’s ass and ride each thrust. Another sound clawed its way out of his throat before Mihashi pulled his face forward, smothering him in his shoulder, to keep him quiet, and this way Abe could smell the baseball field, the dugout, Mihashi’s sweat, and he suddenly remembered that he’d been here before, he knew exactly how this place tasted, and his tongue was heavy with need. This… this was the place he could leave a mark, he remembered distantly, trailing his lips up Mihashi’s neck to just below his hairline before sinking in his teeth. 

He almost missed the soft jolt that Mihashi gave at the harsh caress, and his whole body was throbbing with how close he was to orgasm, it was too fast and he needed to slow down and breathe, but suddenly the locker room was filled with the noise of their teammates shuffling in, bouncing off the tile as they approached the lockers to change for their showers. Abe froze in place, about to pull away, but before he could, Mihashi’s hand tightened against his skull, and he lifted a leg, curling it around Abe’s as his hand pulled him hard against him again. Abe smothered a groan at the sudden movement,  _Mihashi wasn’t going to stop,_ and he rutted harder against his pitcher, adrenaline like lightning in his bloodstream mixing with arousal so intense he was sure he was going to black out in the next second or the next, the only thing covering the sound of his hips smacking against Mihashi’s being their teammates’ voices right around the corner. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage, Mihashi holding him tight like a vice, he was so fucking close, so hard, oh God he knew he was making noise and he didn’t even care if his teammates heard and he never lived this down because then he felt the stutter in Mihashi’s breath and felt him tense, and then there was a soft whimper beneath his sucking mouth as Mihashi came hot and wet in his jersey, undoubtedly staining the front as his hands reached blindly for Abe in his white-hot pleasure. And that was enough for Abe to come, hard into his cup, teeth sinking into the soft flesh beneath his mouth and bruising him even more as the groan came out low against Mihashi’s skin. His balls  _ached_  with the force, hips stuttering against Mihashi’s even after he’d finished, electrical jolts of aftermath running just under his skin.

His whole body felt absolutely drained and lethargic, his mind hazy with the pleasure still sparking at every nerve ending where he and Mihashi were touching. Pulling his mouth away, Abe gently licked the area he’d bruised before kissing it, his hands slowly turning from iron vices to comforting strokes. Mihashi was so warm against him, his still-uneven breath against Abe’s ear more soothing than any lullaby when a soft exhale of his name, low and so satisfied,  _“Abe-kun”,_  made his whole body quiver in pleasure. A sudden need to see Mihashi’s face burned his whole body, along with the chilling thought that their teammates were still  _right there,_ and honestly it was a miracle they’d managed to keep quiet long enough to finish, and oh my God  _did that just really happen_  he was going to  _kill_  Mihashi. He pulled back, just enough so that he could stay like this a moment longer but they wouldn’t be suspicious. It would be okay if their teammates found them hugging; they’d gotten used to that. Finding him plastered knee to neck, however, would probably be a little more startling.

Almost as soon as he’d separated himself from his pitcher, Mizutani’s voice pierced the locker room. “Oh, where’s Abe and Mihashi?” he asked, and Abe pulled himself out of Mihashi’s neck all together. He was flushed, Abe noted, and maybe if it had been right after an inning he pitched it would be excusable, but he felt his own cheeks flare up because it really was obvious, wasn’t it. Mihashi was glowing, eyes soft and half-lidded, his lower lip bright red from - oh, those were teeth marks, Abe noted, pressing his tongue hard to the room of his mouth before he leaned forward and kissed the indents at the thought of Mihashi biting his lower lip to keep himself from making any noise. He shuffled, and suddenly he was aware of the significant amount of cum in his pants, and saw the wet stain at the front of Mihashi’s. 

“Here they are,” a voice said, and Abe looked up to see Mizutani peering around the corner with a huge grin on his face despite the fact that his eyes were puffy and red from crying. “Hurry up and take a shower, you two. Momokan said not to waste your frustration on tears, remember? Or something like that.”

“Yeah,” Abe responded, pulling off his shirt and dangling it on his wrists, hoping that it was enough to keep Mihashi’s crotch out of Mizutani’s gaze. The left fielder turned and left, and Abe exhaled shakily before looking to Mihashi, who smiled before he stripped his own shirt off and padded on uneven feet towards the showers himself. Harada’s voice filled the showers as he approached Mihashi sobbing grossly, hiccuping how he was going to get strong enough to be worthy of being Mihashi’s relief, and starting tomorrow could he watch Mihashi-senpai practice he promises he won’t bother him, all while Mihashi stared on, less affected than usual because of the lingering ecstasy pulling on his brain. Pride for rendering his pitcher that relaxed and affection pulled tight in Abe’s gut, followed by a sudden weight of horror, because holy shit, now he’d really fucked up. They hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk about what happened in the Nishiura club room, and now here he was, dry humping his pitcher against the lockers after losing a game because he couldn’t get Mihashi out of his head. Abe exhaled sharply, trying to blink himself forcefully out of his post-orgasm haze and absolutely definitely not thinking about how good it had felt to have Mihashi desperately clinging to him like that, and definitely not wondering what he would sound like if he wasn’t trying to be quiet, and yeah, it had been kind of hot to have Mihashi shush him like that, and - 

No, Abe thought fiercely, scorching his body with hot water as he turned on the knob with absolute determination. Absolutely no more until they had a chance to talk, and the next opportunity, he was going to do it. He wouldn’t jeopardize their battery over something as stupid as getting each other off. And then, Abe turned around to wash his hair and felt a searing pain at the back of his neck, and when he reached his hands up to find out what was wrong, he felt the rising scratch marks from where Mihashi had clawed him up while he came.

Well, Abe mused hotly. Maybe it wasn’t so stupid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* these boys.... they were supposed to hold each other and cry. And then go to the post-game meeting. That was all I //swear//
> 
> Too much baseball?? Not enough baseball?? Shut up and let them make out already Sam??


	6. Combustion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for kudos and comments!! I hope you continue to enjoy!

  
With the end of the Spring Tournament came the forward vision of summer, though Shiga-sensei was careful to remind them that there was one more thing that came even before that: final exams. Abe looked over at Mihashi as soon as the dreaded word ‘study’ came out of their advisor’s mouth, and a fraction of the anxiety tangling his gut over just how deep Mihashi was in trouble academically dissipated when Mihashi only looked petrified and not one-step-in-the-grave petrified. Tajima, on the other hand, looked like he just about had a hand raised to knock on the pearly gates. Mihashi had mentioned something about taking his textbooks home that year to keep himself from getting so deep in the hole, and Abe had to hold back the desire to weep with joy. 

“Mihashi! Let’s all study at your place!” Tajima proclaimed, hands holding his ankles as he rocked back and forth in his cross-legged sit. “It’s not your birthday but it’ll still be fun, right?”

“Fun!” Mihashi responded, nodding briskly and pulling out his phone. He tapped a text out, probably to his mother, then all scrambled not to collapse to the ground when Tajima hooked his arm around Mihashi’s neck and hung there. Abe rolled his eyes, watching as Hanai grabbed Tajima by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him off. “I told mom to get some food, so - ”

“Yes! Go, Mihashi!”

Abe shook his head at Tajima’s clear exuberance, then let his eyes rest on Mihashi’s giggling form as a mixture of apprehension and relief threaded together in his chest. This was it, he decided. This was going to be the time he finally swallowed down every bit of nervousness in his body, stopped waiting for the ‘perfect moment’ to bring up what was going on between them, and  _made_  it the right time. A hormonal touch was one thing, getting close into his personal bubble and totally giving away how much he wanted to kiss his pitcher was one thing, but actually getting each other off in a locker room full of their classmates was something completely different. No more.

\----------

The second years of Nishiura baseball team were probably a little too well-acquainted with Mihashi’s home, Abe thought, observing as Tajima tore through the house with Izumi and Mizutani in full pursuit. Suyama and Sakaeguchi had put their bags in the bedroom upstairs before going into the kitchen to get water for everyone (with Sakaeguchi turning bright pink when he made eye contact with Abe, for some bizarre reason, almost as if he’d been caught doing with his hands in a cookie jar, which made absolutely no sense). Oki and Nishihiro seemed to be the only good guests, looking properly ashamed of their classmates before going up to Mihashi’s room to get the tables pulled together for them to study. Hanai joined the dash around the home, though his contribution at least ended when he managed to tackle Tajima to the ground. His yelling, however, was probably as much of a nuisance to the neighbors as running around had been to Mihashi’s mother.

“Ah, Takaya-kun, it’s good to see you again,” Naoe commented, looking surprisingly relaxed with the pandemonium going around in her house. “Ren’s been whining about how little you come over now that the season has started back up again. It’s all I hear about besides baseball, these days.”

_“Mom!”_ Mihashi yelped, running over and standing between her and Abe with a steel-stiff spine. “Y-You  _promised_ …!”

“Oh!” Naoe gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth before she laughed at her son and patted his head gently. “Why don’t you take the boys upstairs while I order for some carry out, Ren?” Mihashi looked a bit porcupine-like, but as his mother turned around to go into the living room to get the phone, Hanai’s dominance over Tajima apparently signaled the end of the goofing off. Abe did, however, feel his stomach blossom when Mihashi made eye contact with him and burned bright red before sprinting up to his room. He knew he was smiling, but he didn’t bother to hide it.

Abe was the last to get into the room to study, and he took the seat between Mihashi and Sakaeguchi that was left for him. Sakaeguchi flashed him a bright smile, and Abe was not blind to the small hickey just visible on the edge of his shirt collar, and a glance over to Suyama showed the shortstop’s hand resting on Sakaeguchi’s leg a little too high to be friendly. Remembering earlier when Sakaeguchi had blushed and looked positively embarrassed, Abe hummed, smirking and putting that little bit of information away for future reference if he needed it.

“All right. Everyone, studying for one hour before our break,” Hanai said, looking down to his watch. Abe pulled out his math notebook, only to slap it shut when he realized with horror that he hadn’t taken the time to rewrite these notes and so the doodles in the margins, the embarrassing  ~~ _Abe Ren_ ~~ _Mihashi Takaya, Ren ♥ Takaya_ and various stringy doodles of the two of them playing baseball or smooching. A quick glance at his left revealed that Mihashi was nose-deep in his English homework with a helpless look on his face, and Abe felt a depth of gratitude for his pitcher saving his ass that reached his toes.

“Mihashi, do you need help with that?” Abe asked, and Mihashi’s hazel eyes looked up to his and blinked once, and then Abe was hostage to one of Mihashi’s charming little smiles. Abe leaned over just as Mihashi started to scoot closer, body tilting so they could read the worksheet together. It had several fill in the blank sections and a few multiple choice questions, and the theme seemed to be… going out to eat with a focus on irregular verbs. It was just the kind of thing that he’d have to concentrate on to explain to Mihashi well, which was just what he needed so he didn’t focus on how he could feel Mihashi’s body warmth this close, and how nice Mihashi’s hair smelled from his shower after practice, and if he just moved his hand a little bit he could touch Mihashi’s thigh, the thigh that had felt so nice when he’d grabbed it to bring Mihashi’s hips against his in the locker room - 

Abe exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as Mihashi read the directions with a furrowed brow and his pencil tapping gently on the table. He could do this. He could focus and help Mihashi pass. The higher grade Mihashi got, the happier he would be, which meant that he could practice better, which meant they could do better in the Summer Tournament. Yes, absolutely. A direct chain of events that began right here, with Abe definitely not focusing on the texture of Mihashi’s skin where it disappeared into his shirt, and how he could just make out the shape of his collarbones from his angle, and gosh what did  _those_  feel like under his teeth and - fuck. Okay, he needed to stop.

It was a good ten minutes before Abe could manage to get his head out of his crotch and into Mihashi’s worksheet, and another half hour after that when he came to the clear realization that Hanai’s goal of one hour before a study break was just not going to work for the pitcher. He had that bubbly, dazed look in his eyes he got when Abe was trying to talk about the other team’s pitching preferences when Mihashi was tired; Abe knew Mihashi well enough to know that anything he said at this point would be in one ear and out the other. A glance at Hanai and the captain rolled his eyes, then jerked his head towards the door. 

“Mihashi, come on,” Abe said, causing Mihashi to jump a bit. Definitely not retaining much, Abe sighed. “Follow me.” Standing from the table, Abe made his way to Mihashi’s door, pausing at the top of the steps to look over his shoulder and make sure that Mihashi was following him. He was, eyes wide and confused, so Abe continued down the steps, hands in his pockets. “You were having a tough time concentrating, so I figured we should take a break and not waste time going over anything you’re not going to remember anyway.”

A loud happy noise behind him, and then Mihashi’s hands were clutched in his shirt from behind, and Abe looked to see Mihashi’s eyes wide and sparkling. “Can… can we pitch? Outside?” Abe stopped and almost said no, because he’d already done his pitching today and needed to rest up for the summer tournament, but looking at Mihashi’s excited face and knowing that little else would calm him down for studying quite like pitching a bit apparently caused him to make some kind of positive facial expression, because then Mihashi did  _that_  smile, the one that left Abe stunned in the dust and grasping out at Mihashi like the smaller boy was the only thing keeping him grounded. Mihashi said nothing, just waited for Abe to turn and head the way outside, knowing that his cheeks are flaming red if the fire in his face was any indicator, but he just couldn't help it when Mihashi smiled at him like that, all that brightness of a sun burning his skin.

It was just dark enough for Mihashi to turn on the light, and Abe stepped outside after making a detour into the foyer to grab his catching glove out of his bag. Mihashi had already gathered a small bucket of balls, practically vibrating with happiness. It made Abe’s chest ache to see all of that brightness, to know that Mihashi was this happy not only because he was getting to pitch but because he was pitching to Abe, that pitching to Abe wasn’t like pitching to anyone else, and Abe knew, because for him, catching for Mihashi wasn’t like catching for anyone else, and it never would be ever again. There was something special now, something that connected them, the ideal battery of bright hazel eyes confirming a sign, a windup, a pitch, a sound of a ball hitting a well-loved glove, and then Abe’s proud smile when his knee touched the ground to steady his toss back to Mihashi. It was the kind of routine that felt perfect and right. Even more, the knowledge that it was pretty dangerous what they were doing, having Abe catch with no gear on, but the complete lack of fear, the utter trust, knowing that no matter how difficult a pitch Abe would sign for, Mihashi would throw it, and there would never be a mark on his skin from his pitcher again.

Well, an unintentional mark, Abe thought, suddenly very aware of the scratches that were still causing him a twinge of ache in the showers. It was like a constant reminder of what had happened that day in the locker room: every time he bathed, every time he changed his shirt and raised his hand to fold his collar, every time he brushed a hand through his hair. He’d thought about Mihashi sexually before, definitely, but somehow, having the proof on his body that it could be more than a fantasy if he wanted it to be was… intoxicating. Made it hard to concentrate on his schoolwork when he absentmindedly found himself tracing the marks in class. When he turned his neck quickly to see something and felt the pull of the injured skin. It was like a constant awareness under his skin now, and it was nothing short of incredible.

Mihashi suddenly stopped pitching, and Abe felt himself pale before remembering that no, Mihashi couldn’t read minds even if sometimes it really did feel that way. His pitcher flushed a bit, fiddling with the ball nervously in his hand, and then he was walking over to Abe, who stood in his curiosity. “What’s up?” he asked, watching as Mihashi’s cheekbones turned bright pink, his lips pressing into that curly shape he got when he was desperately trying to hide something he thought would embarrass himself, like admitting he went over his pitch count, or that he forgot to weigh himself that morning. “Mihashi.”

Licking his lips, Mihashi looked at Abe’s feet steadily, his fingers working incessantly over the seams of the ball in his hand, his left hand lifting up to curl nervously in his shirt. “Um, I was… wondering…” he started, voice soft but not stuttering, because Mihashi didn’t usually stutter around him so much anymore, and it was even kind of odd at this point for him to hesitate this much. “I was wondering… if it would ever… ever happen again,” Mihashi managed, his blush spreading from his cheekbones to his entire face. His eyes cut up quickly to meet Abe’s, then back down, his lips curling even more. 

Abe blinked. “If what would ever happen again?” And then, right as Mihashi’s blush increased and he looked back into Abe’s eyes, mouth opening noiselessly around the words, he knew, and he felt heat rise on his own face.

“Y-You know!” Mihashi yelped, then his voice died down out of embarrassment. “You know, in… in the locker room… and the club room…” 

Shock that  _Mihashi_  would be the one to initiate this conversation caused Abe to hesitate a second, long enough for Mihashi’s lips to go from a pressing half-smile to a hopeful real-smile, eyes peering through his eyelashes up at Abe and just in general looking so fucking adorable. It was almost painful how much affection clenched Abe’s chest, actually had him reaching up and clenching his shirt above his heart out of a reflex when it skipped a painful few seconds then rushed to catch up to its pace, and he was blown away by how proud he was that Mihashi had swallowed his embarrassment first to talk to him, and curious wonder as to when Mihashi had gotten more self-confident about this than he had.

“Yes!” Abe heard himself saying before his filter could kick in, the thoughts of  _are you kidding it can happen again as many times as you’ll let it happen again_ , but then the careful breaks on the train of thought, and slow rationale, because wasn’t there a way that these things happened, an order to this kind of thing, holy shit he could feel how much he was blushing, and then, “But… but aren’t there… other things? I mean, we can’t just…!”

Mihashi’s head tilted in his confusion. “Other… things?”

“Other things! Like…” Abe was pretty sure he was about to spontaneously combust. “Kissing! And going on dates! And holding hands, and…” He trailed off, unable to look at Mihashi’s face for all of the swollen embarrassment in his chest. A word, a heavy word,  _dating_ , on his tongue, a word he wanted to say but hell if it didn’t weigh ten thousand pounds in his throat.

“Oh.” There was an eternity stretched between them as Mihashi’s single-syllable response came, and Abe felt like he could swallow himself whole for the incredulity that yes he had actually said that, he’d told Mihashi he wanted to kiss and go on dates, oh God it had finally happened,  _what now_ ; except then there was a warm touch on his hand, and when he looked down to see Mihashi leaning forward, there was the softest brush against his lips, Mihashi’s face so close to his own with delicate blond eyelashes against pale cheeks, and all Abe could think of was that night he’d brushed away the crumbs from Mihashi’s face and yes, his lips really were as soft against his as they had been against his thumb. He closed his eyes, pressing forward as gently as he could, and for the first time he noticed the small wind chime in the kitchen window, that Mihashi’s callouses felt different when their fingers were intertwined like this, and that water tasted differently in Mihashi’s mouth than it did in his own.

Mihashi pulled away as easily as he’d leaned forward, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Is that okay?” he asked, voice as soft and shy as the kiss had been, and suddenly Abe was pretty sure he was literally on fire, his right hand raising to cover his red-hot face even as his left stubbornly refused to release its hold on Mihashi’s. He nodded, unable to say anything, unable to look at Mihashi for the fear of going blind, but he could feel Mihashi’s hand tightening around his even more, almost to the point of pain but not quite because Mihashi was so gentle and would probably do anything before he hurt his catcher.

There was the sound of soft laughter, and Abe peeked between his fingers to see that Mihashi, almost as red as he was, was indeed the source of the sound, lips wet from their kiss and curved in utter unharnessed joy. Abe’s hand slowly fell from his face, and it wasn’t until he saw it on Mihashi’s, curving around Mihashi’s cheek, that he realized he had reached out to caress that smiling face that had his stomach fluttering about so strangely like this. Mihashi closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, his wide grin fading into a smile of contentment that had Abe’s eyes burning with tears. It suddenly struck him that he’d never realized how  _beautiful_  Mihashi was, how the exact curve of his nose was absolutely perfect for his face, that his face was the perfect shape for holding in his hand like this, his mouth curved just right for his mouth. He leaned in again, brushing his lips against Mihashi’s, feeling the soft press of Mihashi’s skull against his own through the kiss as a silent reaffirmation that it was a mutual feeling in the both of them. His fingers went from Mihashi’s cheek to his jaw, then carded through his hair, reveling in the painfully soft strands between them. When he cupped Mihashi’s nape and tilted his head, he accidentally pulled a bit too hard, but the apology fell out of his mind when Mihashi’s lips parted in an aroused breath that rushed over Abe’s mouth like fine wine. 

_Oh God_ , Abe thought, feeling Mihashi’s tongue press against his lower lip in a slow caress. He finally released Mihashi’s left hand because he  _needed_  flesh under his palm, gripped Mihashi’s side and pulled him closer, until their hips connected in that same puzzle-piece perfection they’d discovered in the locker room. Teeth nipped his lip, and when Abe groaned in reflex, Mihashi was there to smother the sound with his mouth, hand gripping Abe’s jaw to pull him closer, smoothly licking his way into Abe’s mouth and curling his tongue in ways that had Abe’s toes curling in his shoes. He felt his fingers tighten everywhere, pulling Mihashi’s hair and digging into the soft skin of his pitcher’s back, but it wasn’t enough with a shirt in his way. He tugged on the cotton mindlessly, feeling it give inch by inch until it was free from his pants, and then the warm paleness of Mihashi’s back was hot against his palm, and with an achingly slow wave of his spine, Mihashi was pressed knee to nose against him, each purposeful undulation of his body driving Abe absolutely mad. It wasn’t until Abe broke the kiss with a wet sound that he realized that he was hard, and he shivered against Mihashi helplessly, in awe of the power Mihashi had to turn him into such a quivering mess with such a simple thing as a kiss.

He wasn’t alone, however; Mihashi shifted just enough for Abe to feel the hardness pressing next to his, and the soft breathy sound he made that came from having it touched even a little bit sent a shot of fire through every vein in Abe’s body. He tipped his head forward, pressing his forehead against Mihashi’s and closing his eyes as he fought to slow his heart rate and get his blood back in the rest of his body where it belonged. Mihashi’s hand slowly curled from his jaw to trail down to his throat, fingers tracing to the back of his neck to play with Abe’s hair. His pitching hand, Abe thought, swallowing the groan because he vaguely remembered where he was and why he was there, that they were taking a break from doing homework, that the others were going to wonder where they were, and he wasn’t quite ready to share this with anyone else just yet. Not when it was so fresh and new to him, to them, not when he was still learning how it felt to have Mihashi sigh contentedly against his mouth, how easy it was to lean in a bit and press a soft peck on Mihashi’s smile and how that made Mihashi’s fingers tremble against his skin. 

“We need to go back,” Abe murmured, not moving an inch. Mihashi hummed in affirmation, though he too did not budge. He should be irritated, Abe thought, but he literally couldn’t remember what it felt like to be anything but this content, until Mihashi suddenly pulled back with a concerned expression, his hands freezing on the back of Abe’s neck. “What is it?”

“Scratches,” Mihashi answered, but also asked, the pads of his fingers tracing the angry red lines Abe had not seen but had certainly felt, and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks once again. While he was struggling to try and decide how to tell Mihashi what had happened, it must have clicked, because he froze, then turned cherry red. “I… oh, I’m… sorry, Abe-kun…”

Abe straightened his spine, putting some space between him and Mihashi because thinking about how he got the scratches was bringing the heat back from earlier, and he was just starting to get over it. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind,” Abe said, thinking  _I liked it_ , but not really sure how Mihashi would respond with that knowledge, and definitely not wanting Mihashi to start using him as a scratching post if he thought it would make him happy. The last thing he needed was a hell-cat pitcher accidentally showing everyone in the room just how one-body they had gotten.

…Abe was pretty sure steam came off his face at that thought.

Taking another couple of seconds to recover, Abe looked down at his watch and saw that they had taken what was supposed to be a couple minutes and stretched it into a fifteen minute break, though when Mihashi’s hand curled sweetly into his and a cheek pressed against his shoulder, he couldn’t really find it in himself to be upset about it. Instead, he nuzzled his nose into Mihashi’s hair, taking every stolen touch that he could before they had to go back up to Mihashi’s room and pretend like nothing had changed in front of their teammates. And then, achingly, he pressed one last lingering kiss to the crown of Mihashi’s head, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, trying his best to memorize the smell of Mihashi’s shampoo here at the source. Then, he pulled back, and picked up his catcher’s glove where it had fallen in their amorous activities, and tucked it under his arm. Turning, he looked to Mihashi and matched the fond smile on his pitcher’s face with all of the affection he felt strangling his heart. 

“Come on. I’ll be really pissed if you fail a class and can’t play in the tournament.”

“I won’t! I’ve been working really hard!” Mihashi protested, trotting behind him and waiting on his catcher as Abe tucked his glove back into his bag. They walked back upstairs, and a few of their teammates turned their heads in silent acknowledgement, though Abe was extremely careful to stare at the table so he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He was pretty sure he knew he would have an expression on his face that was a little too telling just what he and Mihashi had done for the past fifteen minutes if he did.

Mihashi took a seat next to him, and Abe found that it was actually easier to concentrate on his work now, that he was no longer staring hungrily at Mihashi’s skin like a starved animal, and his English tutoring flew by with Mihashi getting almost all of his problems correct before they switched to math. (Well, Mihashi switched to math, and Abe turned to do  _his_  English homework, because hell if he was going to pull his math journal out in front of anybody.) It was in the middle of his fourth problem after the collective team ten minute break that the thought came to him, that there was a very special date coming up, and that he and Mihashi had another promise to each other they’d silently made tonight, and he mentally made the note:  _Mihashi’s birthday - plan our date._

 


	7. Worth It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where I discover how unhealthily fun writing Abe/Shinooka bff shenanigans is, and Mihashi has more initiative than you would expect.
> 
> WE GOT FANART!!! WHOO THANK U BAKPAOCOKLAT!! [bakpaocoklat - sleepy snuggles](http://bakpaocoklat.tumblr.com/post/100727649429/oofuri-sketch-dumps) (dies)

It occurred to Abe rather quickly that not only did he have absolutely no idea how to plan a date in general, with anyone, but that hours of research online provided absolutely nothing that sounded appealing for someone like Mihashi Ren. 

Well, more accurately, there was nothing appealing to Abe Takaya, who was the one deciding the date, damn it, and going to an overpriced movie where Mihashi wouldn’t even be paying  _attention_  to him seemed like a shitty idea for a first date, especially for his birthday. (Did Mihashi even  _like_  movies?!) The cafe idea seemed pretty nice, except that he didn’t want Mihashi to eat something super sugary and get a stomach ache right in the middle of their most intense training, and plus there was something rather intimidating about the mental image of pink doilies and giggling across from one another over an ice cream float. The nearest park was too small for the hand-holding stride, and more importantly, it was not exciting enough for Mihashi and a little too public for Abe to go around prancing their relationship just yet.

And so it was that Monday morning came after a Sunday of dating research, and Shinooka’s spectacularly amused look that was a little too knowing for Abe’s comfort.

“Something fun to do on Mihashi-kun’s birthday?” she repeated, as careful about avoiding the d-a-t-e-word as Abe had been, though it almost felt like for her it was more of an amusing denial than anything else. Abe tried his best not to flush, instead letting his frustration pull into what he hoped was a nice, neutral frown. Judging from the way she was pressing her lips together to keep laughter in, he had a feeling he was not doing too well. “You know he would be happy doing pretty much anything, right?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping the baseball team?” Abe said, this time earning full-blown laughter that had his cheeks feeling a little too warm for his comfort. If he’d known that she was going to make fun of him like this… No, he needed an expert, and according to all his research, girls were good at thinking of this kind of thing. He could do this for Mihashi.

Shinooka wiped under her eyes as she straightened, looking to Abe with eyes still sparkling with the tears from her laughing. “Well, what does Mihashi-kun like to do for fun? Besides baseball, I mean.”

Besides baseball? There were things other than baseball? Abe blinked, then looked down at his desk as he scrambled his mind to think. What did Mihashi like? He liked food, and he liked… baseball. He seemed to like Abe, at least as much as Abe had managed to communicate with him over the past few days of touches that lingered a little longer than they had before their last study session, and then suddenly he was feeling grumpy as it occurred to him that perhaps he didn’t know Mihashi so well after all. Or at least, once again, he was reminded how much he counted on baseball to keep him and Mihashi together, and the familiar bitterness in his mouth that sometimes it felt like that was all there was between them, sometimes.

“I don’t know,” Abe admitted at last, feeling himself sulk even as he looked up to see Shinooka roll her eyes like she was dealing with a small child. Abe had to patiently remind himself that yes, picking a great date for Mihashi’s birthday really was worth this embarrassment.

“Well, why don’t you figure that out, then? Once you know his hobbies, you can plan fun dates for him,” Shinooka said, and Abe stared in horrified shock as she clasped her hand delicately over her mouth in surprise and what was definitely humor crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Whoops, I said it, didn’t I?”

“I’m… going to go talk to Mihashi,” Abe said, pulling himself out of his desk and all but bolting for the door. Shinooka’s chiming laughter followed his back, but he was more interested in the way that his face felt like it was going to sear off as he strode down the hall for class nine. He slid open the door and looked around for that familiar mop of blond hair, spotting it just in time for what was apparently some kind of grand reveal.

“Whoaa, Mihashi, it looks great! I wanna try a bite!” Tajima crowed, leaning over Mihashi’s shoulder and drooling into the bento sitting on the desk. Hamada looked equally impressed, and even Izumi was scooting up, staring at the food with piqued interest. 

“Abe’ll kill you if he finds out that you’re eating Mihashi’s lunch,” Izumi drawled, reaching over and plucking a hot dog out and popping it in his mouth. Mihashi spluttered, staring in horror at Izumi for taking what Abe knew was one of his favorite parts, and Tajima scowled before his cinnamon eyes looked up and caught Abe peering in through the door. He made an undignified noise, falling off Mihashi’s back before crawling up the desk to flick Izumi in the nose.

“You summoned the Abe,” Tajima said, and Abe felt the need to sigh as four sets of eyes turned onto him with various levels of surprise. Okay, so it wasn’t too common that he came all the way to class 9, but it wasn’t uncommon enough for this kind of reaction. He looked to Mihashi, who was blinking rapidly with a pressed little smile on his face, and he couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered uncomfortably at the sight. And then, Abe realized that he probably needed a reason to come visit Mihashi, and ‘I’m trying to find out your hobbies to organize a date for your birthday’ was definitely not going to come out of his mouth. And then, slowly, he stepped forward, his mind piecing together the conversation that he’d walked into.

“You made that?” he asked, looking at the pretty bento in front of Mihashi with not a small feeling of being impressed swelling in his chest. Mihashi nodded, then flushed a pretty pink and wiggled a bit in his chair.

“Does… do you want to try it?” Mihashi asked, cutting his eyes up at Abe before looking back down and twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Abe felt the small twang of cupid’s arrow thwacking his chest yet again, and he reached down to take the chopsticks that Mihashi offered in eager hands. He took a bite of one of the rice balls, and the smooth flavor rolled over his tongue to be replaced with a soft hum of pleasure. When he looked down, Mihashi was practically sparkling with pride.

“This is… really incredible, Mihashi,” Abe said, putting the bento back down and pointedly staring at Izumi while nudging it towards the pitcher. Izumi lifted a daring eyebrow, while Tajima sprawled on his desk and wiggled his butt in the air.

“Mihashi’s been bringing his lunch for a while now,” Tajima said, looking to Mihashi who was getting even brighter, if possible. He nodded, fiddling with the cloth that had been wrapped around his bento box between his fingers.

“When… Abe-kun and I made breakfast together, last year… it was really fun! So… I started practicing, and…” Mihashi looks to the side and does that cute little puffy laugh when he’s happy, and Abe suddenly thinks of the cookbook from their training camp with the worn pages and bookmarks he didn’t recognize them putting in there together, and it all clicks in one single moment of watching Mihashi eat his lunch with a little bit more delicacy than he did the rest of his meals, and maybe it’s because there’s a sort of appreciation for what he did for himself, and getting to show off to his friends, and of course, it really was that easy, wasn’t it? Mihashi liked cooking and he liked food, so they could go and get groceries, and then cook together, and…

…And it would be exactly like training camp. Absolutely nothing special at all. 

Abe put a hand on Mihashi’s head, patting his soft hair with a distant kind of fondness. “It’s good that you’re learning something, Mihashi. Just be careful not to hurt your hands.” Abe watched as Mihashi beamed up at him, little bits of rice around his mouth, and Abe sighed out of fond frustration as he leaned over and picked them off. “Okay. I’ll see you at practice,” he said, and Mihashi hummed a high-pitched happy sound through a mouthful of food while Abe turned and walked back to his classroom, deciding that it was a good thing he hadn’t tried to come up with an excuse to see Mihashi since it probably would have been shitty and obvious anyway.

When he walked inside, Shinooka was eating with some of her friends, but she perked up as soon as her eyes locked with his. Excusing herself, she walked over, standing next to Abe’s desk where he plopped down and pulled out his own bento his mom had made him. It was decisively unappealing compared to the one Mihashi had made. “So, did you figure anything out?”

Abe poked his food with his chopsticks. “He likes food.”

Shinooka’s stare was withering. “I thought we knew that already.”

“No, I mean. He likes making it. Cooking.” 

“Oh!” Shinooka gasped, clapping her hands together as she smiled. “That’s… surprisingly cute of him, actually! And really easy to do!” Abe looked at her blankly, causing her to sigh as if she was dealing with a toddler again. “You should take him to a cooking class!” 

Abe perked up. “They have those?”

“Not everyone just goes home and looks things up on the internet, Abe-kun,” Shinooka responded, her words just prickly enough to have his heckles raise. “It’ll be good for both of you. Mihashi-kun will love it, and you’ll get even better with preparing the breakfasts for training camps. It’s a win-win.”

Abe grunted in halfway agreement, chewing thoughtfully as he stared down at his bento. Shinooka was right in that Mihashi would definitely love it, and it  _would_  be a good chance to gain some skills that would help him in the kitchen when they were together… Maybe Shinooka was on to something.

The rest of class breezed by as Abe tried to think of what kind of cooking class would be best, and how much he could spend without it being weird, and how much he had to spend in general; and then practice, which was airy and somehow more fun than it had ever been before, though perhaps the way Mihashi pressed their hands together a little longer and gave him a look that was a little softer every time they interacted had something to do with that. It was barely noticeable, but for Abe, who had built his world around noticing every little detail about his pitcher, it was enough to quench the drowning thirst for now.

And then they were walking home, with Tajima babbling about some cool new video game he wanted but probably wouldn’t get until after they finished the summer tournament so he wouldn’t be tempted to stay up all night, and a little bit about his new masturbatory techniques that had him lasting  _twice_  as long, Mihashi, causing the blond to burn bright red as his eyes flicked to Abe and left him with a general sensation of being too warm all the way to where they parted. 

“Mihashi,” Abe called, softly, flicking his gaze to where Tajima was sprinting over to the soda machine to grab a pocari for the rest of his trip home after escorting Mihashi. Mihashi turned, eyes wide and golden in the street light, but Abe got only a glimpse before he leaned in and allowed himself one kiss, soft and lingering. His fingers reached up to curl around some of the hair tickling the side of Mihashi’s neck, just beneath his ear, savoring how the shivers chased down Mihashi’s skin like his teeth were dying to do. He pulled back after just a few brief, intense moments, body feeling heavy and sluggish to move and heart beating just a little too fast. Mihashi was flushed, lips parting on a soft exhale and his eyes reopening just enough for them to make eye contact. “Text me when you get home.”

“Okay,” Mihashi breathed, eyes falling to Abe’s lips before jerking over to Tajima when the cleanup hitter made his presence known by calling for Mihashi to hurry up, didn’t he know that Tajima’s favorite show was coming on at nine thirty and he was really gonna get it if even a second wasn’t watched. Mihashi looked back to Abe, eyes warm and lips curving into the kind of smile that Abe wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. “Good night, Abe-kun.” 

“Night, Mihashi,” Abe responded, watching for just a few moments as Mihashi got on his bike and pedaled after the squealing Tajima, probably seconds from getting yelled at for being too loud in the streets at night. Then, Abe got on his own bike and went down the street to his own home, quiet and filled with a warm and gentle peace. Even Shun’s pestering for him to help with his math homework didn’t faze his good mood, and he got all of his homework done before pulling himself up to his computer with a determined exhale. 

He searched for food classes in the area, making note of the ones that were close and then arranging them in order of price. A few were outrageous and definitely out of his budget, but there were a couple that were manageable. And then, he found the perfect one, with openings on Sunday, Mihashi’s birthday. He reserved the spots, wrote down the details, and then looked at his notebook with a slowly trickling excitement that started from his toes and went all the way to his smile-curved lips. It got bigger as he went and took his bath, brushing his teeth and seeing just how bright his face looked even to himself in the mirror with a twinge of amusement. 

It was when he crawled in bed that he realized that Mihashi was not the same kind of person as Abe; that Mihashi had people who made plans and spent time with him, and it was a sudden chill in Abe’s gut that perhaps Mihashi had already made plans for his birthday while Abe had dawdled trying to find the Perfect Thing, and that he’d have to talk to Mihashi’s mother, and  _his_  mother, and… oh God, the team… he would have to coordinate with all of these people to keep that block sacred and just for the two of them. Well, he could tell Mihashi not to make plans, Abe thought, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling above him through the darkness. That would take care of the team making any plans. But he’d still have to talk to Mihashi-san and make sure that it was okay for him to kidnap her son for the day, or at least for part of the day. 

Abe groaned into the night, rolling back over and smothering his face into his pillow.

\----------

It was two days later when Mizutani asked Mihashi if they could have another group study session, and Abe could have fallen to his knees and kissed the left fielder’s feet for the gratitude he felt in that moment. The past forty eight hours had been hell, walking halfway to Mihashi’s home in his mind before he realized how stupid that was, because he had practice and so did Mihashi, and the only time he could see Mihashi-san when she wasn’t at work would be after practice, also known as the time when Mihashi would be home and would be right there. But this… this was  _perfect_.

“Abe, you look… happy…” Hanai commented as they walked on to Mihashi’s home, and Abe looked at his captain to see a strained but vaguely amused look on his face. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, no. Not really,” Abe answered, only to jump when Tajima suddenly tackled Hanai from behind, wrapping his legs around Hanai’s waist and all but bringing him down to the pavement.

“He’s happy because we’re going to Mihashi’s house, duh!” Abe stared hard at the ground in front of him, knowing that if he looked at absolutely anyone he’d blush in the shittiest, most  _obvious_  way - “That means great food! Who wouldn’t be happy about that?!” Saved by Tajima’s simplicity, Abe thought humbly. Except then he made the mistake of looking over at Mihashi to his left, who let loose a single quick happy sound that had Abe’s face burning and once again geared completely to his feet.

When they got to Mihashi’s house, Hanai was quick to wrangle them all upstairs and into a studying position. Mihashi took to Nishihiro with Tajima, and Abe was glad for it as he was able to slip out of the room with a quick excuse of needing the bathroom without too much suspicion from the blond. He walked as quickly and quietly as he could to the stairs, then down, skipping the fourth one that squeaked, and into the kitchen where Mihashi-san was making dinner for everyone.

“Ah, Takaya-kun, did you need something?” she asked when she saw him, and Abe noted that Mihashi definitely had her smile before he blanched. Oh God, how was he supposed to do this? What if she already had plans for Mihashi? What if she said no? He was really sure he wouldn’t be able to take it if she said no.

“Um… I was wondering if… you had any plans for Mihashi’s birthday yet,” he asked, staring at the pot of curry that Mihashi-san was stirring on the stove. She paused, long enough for him to look at her face, and he saw that she was looking at him with that same surprised bird-expression Mihashi got sometimes, and somehow, that made him more relaxed, though thinking  _third base runner_  didn’t hurt, either.

“Hmm, not yet…” She then gasped, eyes wide and sparkling. “You… ah, you want to do something with Ren! He would really love that, Takaya-kun. Tell me, tell me!” she said, stirring the curry and grinning at him broadly. Abe felt the heat rush to his face, because somehow it felt suddenly embarrassing to be talking to his… whatever Mihashi was’s mother like this.

“I was thinking about taking him to a cooking class,” he said, and Mihashi-san cooed approvingly. “Do… you think he’ll like it?” 

“Oh, Takaya-kun, he’ll love it! He’s been getting up every morning for a while now to make his own bento, and he’s gotten pretty good at it. Ah, but it’s a secret, isn’t it?” she asked, and Abe nodded slowly. Mihashi-san giggled into her hand, patting Abe on the head. “Okay, I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out. You’re such a sweet friend to him, Takaya-kun. I really appreciate you, and I know Ren does too.”

Abe tried to fight the knot in his throat at the approval of Mihashi’s mother, nodding when he didn’t feel like he could manage speech. “All right. Dinner will be ready in a bit, so you go on ahead and I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she said, and Abe nodded with one last thank you before going back up the stairs as carefully as he’d come down. He lifted a hand to open the sliding door to go back into Mihashi’s room, but it slammed open and there was a sprawl of limbs that had him flailing for purchase on the wood floor. When his back hit the wall, he glared down at Tajima, who had wrapped an arm around his neck.

“Yo, Abe, you were gone forever! Did you have to poop?” Abe felt the pressure spike in his veins as he went to brain Tajima for being childish, but before he could, Tajima ducked his head down, leaning in closer. “We’re throwing a surprise party for Mihashi Sunday for dinner here. Think you can get him out of the house for the afternoon?” 

Abe stilled, his fury replaced with an odd curiosity and selfish satisfaction that he had apparently been the one elected to take Mihashi out for the day. “I’ve actually already got plans for him in the afternoon, so that’s not a problem,” Abe responded, and Tajima snickered in his face.

“I knew I could count on you!” the cleanup whispered, then straightened and slapped him hard on the back between the shoulder blades. “Wow, I hope you remembered to wash your hands. I was starting to wonder if you’d fallen in!” Abe resisted the urge to wrap his hands around Tajima’s neck, exhaling sharply and looking up into the room just in time for his eyes to catch gold. Mihashi blinked a few times, rapidly, then tilted his head with a smile, and Abe had to fight the urge to rest his hand on his heart to make sure it was still beating. 

It was only a few minutes later that Mihashi-san called them down for dinner, and there was a general consensus that they would eat outside by the pond as they each slowly trickled out of the room towards the kitchen. Abe went to follow after Oki, but a slight pressure on his arm had him turning to look over his shoulder just in time for a very poorly-aimed kiss to land on his chin. “Mi - ” he started, startled by Mihashi’s sudden affection, but he was silenced with Mihashi’s second attempt which landed very effectively on Abe’s mouth. A quick glance showed that they were the only ones in the room, which Mihashi seemed very keen on capitalizing on. 

“Just a little,” Mihashi purred against his mouth, and the tone went straight to Abe’s knees and had them buckling until his back pressed against the wall behind him, Mihashi holding him up with his knee between Abe’s legs and his hands clutching at Abe’s shirt. A curse clawed its way out of his mouth as Mihashi sucked on Abe’s tongue  and curled his own in filthy good ways, Abe’s hands clutching Mihashi’s hair as he tilted his head and let Mihashi take everything he had to offer. It was deep and wet, blinding Abe with the intensity that had him shivering and hot in his own skin, until Mihashi pulled back and panted against his mouth with soft, desperate noises. 

“Mi… Mihashi…” Abe breathed, losing himself for a moment as his fingers tightened in Mihashi’s hair and tried to pull him closer for another kiss to finish the job and make him forget his own name, but Mihashi made a negative sound and diverted his mouth instead to Abe’s cheek. Abe groaned in protest, earning a breathy laugh against his jawline. 

“Just… a little bit,” Mihashi reminded, and Abe pulled on Mihashi’s hair a little harder that had the blond giving him a sly look. “Don’t pout, Abe-kun.” 

“I’m not pouting!” Abe retorted, sort of amazed at Mihashi, watching with sullen eyes as his pitcher pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his mouth with his forearm in a motion that was somehow incredibly hot, and Abe had to stifle another groan deep in his throat as his head fell back against the wall. He then straightened, only half-hard in his pants this time, reaching out to grab Mihashi’s hand and bring it to press a soft kiss on Mihashi’s knuckles before tugging him out to the stairwell. Mihashi brushed past him, dashing towards the food with an ecstatic face when he entered the kitchen and smelled his mother’s cooking, and Abe felt a thread of pleasure when Mihashi-san winked at him while handing him his plate of curry. The team was already loud outside, talking through full mouths, and Abe settled next to Mihashi with a warm excitement rising again in his chest. Definitely worth it, Abe decided.

 


	8. Pillow Talk

Abe gripped the rake tightly in his hands, staring at Mihashi where the blond was chatting with Tajima and swallowing thickly. He exhaled slowly, closed his eyes, then opened them again to focus intently on the black one scribbled between his pitcher’s shoulder blades. If he waited for those two to stop chatting to go up and talk to Mihashi, he’d probably wait forever. No, he had to  _make_  it the right time.

He put the rake down and walked over to where Tajima and Mihashi were tucking their practice jerseys into their pants. As he got closer, Tajima’s sharp gaze met his own, and with a devilish curl to Tajima’s lips, Abe watched as the third baseman slapped Mihashi hard on the shoulder and then dashed off. Thank God for Tajima’s rare moments of tact, Abe thought, quickly stepping forward to take advantage of Tajima’s sharp eye.

“Mihashi,” Abe called, causing the blond to look over his shoulder and smile when their gazes locked. Abe stepped in again until they were standing close, lowering his voice and definitely feeling a bit of heat rise onto his cheeks. “Don’t make any plans for tomorrow, okay?”

Abe looked and saw Mihashi practically vibrating in his shoes, face flushing and eyes glittering and wide. “Is… Is Abe-kun… planning something?” he asked, and Abe nodded, rubbing the back of his neck a bit as he felt the heat on his face get even hotter and the crawling nervousness just beneath his skin. Damn it, he hadn’t practiced in front of the mirror for twenty minutes this morning for nothing! He forced his voice to be even, though he heard the slight crack at the beginning that had his cheeks burning even more.

“Yeah, so… be ready by noon, okay? I’ll come pick you up.” Abe stole a glance at Mihashi’s face, knowing that the team already had the surprise party and Mihashi’s mother knew about his plans, but there still could possibly be other people who could monopolize Mihashi’s time from him and - ah, no, there was that bright smile on Mihashi’s face, and then he was nodding, hand reaching out and fingers curling in Abe’s practice jersey as Mihashi stepped closer in what couldn’t be called anything other than a swoon. Abe caught his elbows, unable to smother his own smile when Mihashi giggled excitedly and turned a pretty pink before perking up when Tajima bellowed for him to come do batting practice with him. Abe released his hold, watching as Mihashi darted off with the kind of light footsteps that would cause someone to look at his ankles and expect wings.

He was even too giddy, Abe noticed, watching as Mihashi floated through practice with a bubbly expression and that curling smile that burned into a deep blush and a happy chirp whenever he looked at Abe. His tee practice was just short of being a nightmare and his pitches were not quite as pin-point as they usually were, their speed not quite with the giddy-up, but Abe kept his mouth shut. He looked to Momoe, who was focused on whipping Harada into a suitable relief pitcher, and figured that as long as he wasn’t doing anything to hurt himself, it wouldn’t be worth wrecking his good mood to tell him to pay closer attention. The last thing Abe wanted was to have to deal with a sulky Mihashi tomorrow, so a distracted Mihashi today it was.

He did come down a little bit by the afternoon, but as soon as Abe’s eyes met his at the bike rack after practice, that giggling expression came straight back and Mihashi all but floated down the road, every word Tajima babbled to him going in one ear and out the other. Abe tried to tell himself that he didn’t feel any kind of vindication to taking up so much of Mihashi’s attention that even Tajima lost out, but the internal swell of pride was a little too large for him to deny it too much. 

“Mihashi, do you want some smoked squid for the ride home? So you don’t fall asleep?” Tajima asked when they got to the convenience store at the break off where Abe split off their group. Mihashi nodded rapidly, and he took a step to follow, but then he stopped, looking over his shoulder at Abe. Abe closed his mouth from where he was just about to tell Mihashi that he was going to go on ahead as he had a feeling he was going to need all of the sleep for tomorrow he could get for himself, but the moment that hazel gaze touched his skin, he froze.

“What is it?” Abe asked instead, watching with a slow curling in his stomach as Mihashi glanced back over at the store and then back to Abe, licking his lips quickly and wringing his hands together. 

“Um… could you… before you go…” Mihashi started, peering up at Abe through his eyelashes and batting them cutely. Abe bit down hard on his tongue, because he’d never been very good at denying that particular expression anything, and it felt dangerous to agree to that face when he didn’t even know what he was agreeing  _to._ He felt his hands clench on the handlebars of his bike, his lungs filling up with air faster than he could exhale to empty them, and it was when he could feel Mihashi’s breath on his face that he realized that the pitcher had been wiggling steadily closer, and  _oh shit had he finally discovered Abe’s weakness to that expression and how to use it against him - ?!_

Abe felt himself nodding, a groan of despair for his lack of fortitude crawling up his throat only to run into the knot there that formed as soon as Mihashi’s face split into a smile, and then Mihashi’s eyelashes fluttered again as his eyelids drifted shut, leaning in close with his face tilting up, and suddenly Abe realized exactly what it was that he’d been asking for, and, yeah, he wanted it too. He leaned in the last couple of centimeters, let his lips brush against Mihashi’s, let his own eyes close as he savored the exact feel of Mihashi’s trembling kiss, still so new and still causing little starbursts on the back of his eyelids, shuddering in exact tempo to the slow curl of Mihashi’s fingers in his shirt. It was gentle and chaste, making him lightheaded with the amount of pure affection bubbling in his gut, until he felt Mihashi’s lips part and with a quick tilt of his head, Mihashi curled his tongue on the roof of Abe’s mouth and pulled back, leaving him dazed and blinking mutely into cloudy hazel eyes.

Just as Mihashi leaned back out of his breathing space, the sliding door to the supermarket swished open, and Tajima’s triumphant call of Mihashi’s name was just enough to drag Abe out of Mihashi’s snare, but a slight tug at his middle reminded him of Mihashi’s grasp on his shirt, and fingers a little too close to his belt buckle for him to breathe completely evenly, and then Mihashi’s soft “Goodnight, Abe-kun,” and whirring tires left him to stand alone at the crossroads, utterly speechless. He turned to step onto his bike, hissing out a breath when he felt the half-erection still pressing against his pants, and he shot a glance to his bike seat with trepidation before he started walking his bike down the road. 

He was soft by the time he got home, but still unable to think of much more than the way Mihashi had looked framed by the light of the convenience store, eyes lit up and warm by the streetlight near them and lips wet with Abe’s kiss. He licked his lips, trying to taste Mihashi and frustrated to find nothing more than the rice ball he’d eaten after practice. His mother commented amusedly on his grumpy expression before turning her attention to Shun, who went through his day with the exact happy air he almost always had, blissfully leaving Abe to stew in his own thoughts through the meal with only minor comments that his expression would hinder his good digestion.

Even by the time he was bathed and in bed, arm draped across his eyes as he lied on his back, the kiss was still lingering on the edge of his mind. It was even stronger in the dark, when he could recapture the exact moment, feel the same punch to the gut realizing that Mihashi was asking to kiss him, the jolt of excitement when their lips touched. Abe traced his fingers along the waistband of his boxers, feeling the cotton fabric beneath his fingertips, and then dipping inside, lips parting on an exhale as his mind combined the way Mihashi’s tongue had curled in his mouth to the old memory Abe still held in his mind, the feel of Mihashi’s cock in his pants from the club room, the heat and weight of it in his palm, and then he added in the shushing from the locker room at the Senda game, and then he was lost in a fantasy where Mihashi was there in his bedroom, palming him and hushing the sharp intake of air when his mother shut the door to his parent’s bedroom for the night.

_Takaya, you have to be quiet,_  he imagined Mihashi cooing, before he pulled his hand to his mouth and slipped his fingers between his lips. Imagined Mihashi’s hand around his wrist, guiding them into his mouth, fucking his tongue with his fingers as Mihashi guided the motion. Keeping him quiet with his own hand. He brought down his other hand, keeping his eyes shut as he kicked the blanket off and tugged his boxers down to his thighs to free his motions completely. Abe sucked on his fingers as he thumbed his slit, smoothing the precum around to lubricate the soft gentle strokes that weren’t what he liked but what he could easily imagine Mihashi doing, a little timid, a little hesitant - except no, that wasn’t really right either, he revised, thinking about how Mihashi had arched up so heavily into his touch, how it was Mihashi who had hooked his leg around Abe’s hips and demanded that they fuck each other through their clothes around the corner of their teammates’ showers, how it was Mihashi who had pinned him to the wall and mouth-fucked him until he was dizzy enough to need a second to compose himself. He gripped himself hard, and suddenly that felt very right, and he could almost see the way Mihashi’s eyes would burn gold in the streetlight that came through Abe’s window as he fisted Abe’s cock tightly, tongue darting out to lick his lips like he did when he was turned on, those callouses working hard and his eyes watching every desperate thrust of Abe’s hips into his grasp.

His orgasm hit him hard and fast, almost before he could cup his palm and catch his ejaculate, the sticky weight burning his palm as he sank his teeth deep into his fingers to keep from whimpering out Mihashi’s name into the too-quiet Abe household. He lied there for a moment, body heaving with the breaths of an intense afterglow, and then slowly he removed his teeth from his fingers, pulling them out of his mouth and staring with half-lidded eyes at the indentions in his skin. He rubbed them together, watching his spit between his fingers before he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and releasing a shaky exhale into his room where he was alone in his bed, his pitcher a twenty minute bike ride from him and, knowing him, already curled around his pillow with that dreamy slack to his face he got when he was sleeping. Abe felt his face contort at the thought, his chest clenching and stomach fluttering at the mental image of Mihashi’s sleeping face, and he opened his eyes to stare at his ceiling in wonder of what it would be like to roll over in the middle of the night and see that face next to him. 

His face felt suddenly hot, and he reached over to grab a few tissues for his filthy hands before he tucked himself into place and curled up in a steamy mess beneath his blanket for the night. He frowned into his pillow, willing himself to go to sleep, but before he could even think about settling into his exhaustion from practice and an excellent orgasm, his phone chirped on his bedside table, causing him to roll over in wonder. He reached out, flipping his phone open, and sure enough, he hadn’t misheard; Mihashi had texted him at this bizarre hour of the night.

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: about tomorrow]  
[what should i wear???]

Abe blinked at the message, and suddenly he smothered a snort of laughter into his pillow as the earlier mental image of Mihashi sleeping peacefully was replaced by Mihashi fretting around his bedroom, pulling out all of his clothes and sitting in the middle of a discarded pile in hopeless frustration for their date. It made his chest as warm as the image of him sleeping did, and Abe typed out his response with a smile on his face, staring at Mihashi’s name and hoping that he sent out as much comfort as his hand on Mihashi’s managed.

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: Calm down]  
[Something casual and comfortable.]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: Re: Calm down]  
[what is abe-kun wearing?]

Abe read the text as soon as it chirped in and immediately clutched his phone shut, staring wide at his ceiling with a burning face and a body a little too eager to misinterpret Mihashi’s text for the kind of masturbating he’d already gotten done that evening. Mihashi was  _not_ sexting him, though his heart jumped a bit at the thought that perhaps, in the future… He closed his eyes, exhaling long and slowly, then reopened his phone and punched out his response. He hesitated, then typed out the second sentence, rubbing his hot cheeks on his pillow as he rolled over onto his stomach to combat the butterflies in his gut.

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: Re: Re: Calm down]  
[Just regular clothes. You’ll look good  
no matter what you pick.]

Mihashi’s response, predictably, came with a bit of a wait, and Abe amused himself with the mental image of Mihashi sitting on his bed, steaming from the neck up in a blush as he stared at his phone and did that cute bird-mouth thing of his when he was embarrassed. Usually it was only compliments on the field from Tajima that could get him that worked up, but it was easy to imagine, and felt good.

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: you too!]  
[that is, i think abe-kun always looks good  
too]

Abe opened a reply text, but before he could decide what to write, his phone chirped again. He closed his message without saving it and then opened the new one, and glanced his eyes over it.

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: (none)]  
[but… i like abe-kun in his catcher  
outfit best. especially when we’re in  
the middle of a game and it gets dirty]

Abe barely managed to smother the groan into his pillow, hand clutching his phone tightly in a fist before he peeked out of the fabric and reread the text to make sure that he hadn’t twisted it around in some kind of perverted manner, and, yep, Mihashi Ren had just sent him that. He was pretty sure he was never going to be able to play baseball quite the same way ever again. Not that he’d ever  _intentionally_ gotten in-the-ground dirty before, but… there was a first time for everything. But for now, his thumb hovered over the pad of his phone, wondering where he should go, what he should say, and suddenly sexting with Mihashi seemed a little more real than it did a few minutes ago, and while he was still recovering from his earlier fantasy, maybe he could help Mihashi get something, too. It would almost be like they’d done it together, like in the locker room. And just like that, his thumb pressed into the keys, the kanji appearing as he typed in response, eyes wide and face just short of setting his pillow on fire with how hot it felt.

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: I like you in your uniform too]  
[You always look so good on the mound.  
Sometimes when you windup, it’s a little  
hard for me to remember to breathe.]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: yeah!]  
[and when abe-kun puts on his gear,  
sometimes… i watch and yeah it’s  
hard to breathe. i feel weird. but good!]

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: (none)]  
[Tell me how it makes you feel.]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: Re: (none)]  
[it makes me want to touch abe-kun…  
like that time in the clubhouse]

Abe swallowed thickly, biting his lip hard as he decided if he should go for it and take the step forward, but even before he’d really decided yes or no, his fingers were moving, and by the time he’d sent the text, he rubbed his face into his pillow and concentrated on breathing through the sudden dizziness he was feeling again, and a distinct hope that Mihashi’s mother never read her son’s texts.

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: Me too]  
[I liked touching you like that. Sometimes  
I think about you touching me like that.]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: Re: Me too]  
[would you like that?]

Abe stared at the text Mihashi sent, biting his lower lip hard at Mihashi dropping his name and instead directly addressing him. He rubbed his thumb over the phone pad, suddenly a little too aware of the fact that his breathing was starting to pick up again, and he really needed to get Mihashi touching himself already so they could both get some sleep for tomorrow.

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: Yes]  
[Does that make you feel weird too?]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: Re: Yes]  
[it makes me really happy! i want to make  
you feel good like you made me feel good]

There was enough of a gap in the response that Abe felt like he’d finally gotten his message across, and he closed his eyes at the mental image of Mihashi coiled up in bed, typing with one hand and gently fisting his cock with the other, face splotchy red and teeth worrying his bottom lip to keep the noises in even though he didn’t have to worry about that as much as Abe did. Abe licked his lips, typing out a message, goading Mihashi on even more if he wasn’t already, wanting to get to bed before he too got worked up again. He wasn’t Tajima.

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: (none)]  
[It would make me feel good if you felt good,  
Mihashi. Are you feeling good right now?]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: Re: (none)]  
[yes im thinking about you and it feels good]

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: Re: Re: (none)]  
[Tell me when you come. I want to know.  
That’ll make me feel really good.]

Abe sent the message, more than a little nervous as he stared at his sent folder and wondered if he’d stepped a little too far, but a minute later, his phone chirped.

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: i did it]  
[i really want to see you tomorrow]

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subj: Goodnight]  
[I want to see you too. Don’t forget I’ll be at your  
house around noon.]

Abe put his phone on his bedside table again and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes after blinking up numbly at his ceiling for a few moments as it sank in that he’d texted Mihashi into masturbating to him. He rolled over onto his side, plucking his blanket over to his ears and deciding that it was because of the summer heat that they felt hot to the touch.

\----------

The next morning, Abe woke feeling rested from sleeping in a bit more than he did during the week and from what felt like a very pleasant dream, though by the time he was blinking his eyes open, he couldn’t remember what it had been about. He pulled his blanket off, rolled into a sitting position and shuffled his feet onto his floor before making his way downstairs. He entered the kitchen while scratching his stomach lazily, watching blearily as his mother flipped the scrambled eggs around in the pan at the stove while humming under her breath. It reminded him of how Mihashi liked to hum while he cooked, and apparently the thought gave him a funny expression as Shun lifted an eyebrow and quirked a smile at him.

Before his brother could say anything obnoxious, Abe plopped down in a seat next to his brother and across from where his father was already munching on toast. “I’m going to Mihashi’s today for his birthday,” he announced, eyes following his mother’s movements across the kitchen as she settled all the food on separate plates and brought them over to the table.

“Oh, that’s nice! Tell him I said happy birthday,” she said, putting Abe’s plate down in front of him. He took in a whiff of the eggs and rice, then dove straight into the rice after clapping his hands together with an ‘itadakimasu’ that echoed his brother’s. “Did you get him a present?”

“Sort of,” Abe responded, though it was more of a muffled grunt around the food he was shoveling in his mouth. He swallowed, then continued. “I’m taking him to a cooking class because he likes that kind of stuff.” His mother clapped her hands together in delight, then tilted her head and sighed in a faux exhaustion.

“Please do your best to pick up some of that interest yourself. I don’t know what you’re going to do when you go out on your own and have to fend for yourself.” Abe opened his mouth to tell his mother that he would be  _fine_  thank you very much because Mihashi was an excellent cook so he didn’t  _need_  to learn, but he clammed up and felt his cheeks heat up fiercely, not only because he’d almost snapped his relationship to his whole family but also because of the quick assumption about their future he’d accidentally made. He stared down at his eggs, poking them a bit before scowling and eating them with the same gusto he’d had with his rice. 

He spent most of the morning doing his homework to try and get rid of the crawling embarrassment in his skin, until finally he pulled on some casual clothes and slipped his phone into his pocket. With a holler to his mother, he was out of the house and on his bike, pedaling through the streets towards Mihashi’s house with more than a little excitement brewing. The wheels of his bike whirred beneath his eager feet until he was just outside the Mihashi household, staring at the front door with a sudden twist of nerves. Before he could work himself up to a Mihashi-leveled nervousness, he rang the doorbell. 

After standing there for but a few seconds, the door slid open to reveal Mihashi’s mother, and the both of them turned and looked to the staircase to see Mihashi thundering down, face flushed and dashing to the front door only to stop and squawk in protest when the pitcher’s eyes locked with his mother’s. “Be careful coming down the stairs, would you?” Abe groaned, pressing a hand to his temple at the thought of Mihashi tumbling down and breaking something. Mihashi’s mother smothered a smile with her hand, then patted Mihashi on the head. 

“Have a good time, Ren! I’ll see you boys later!” 

Mihashi scrambled to put his shoes on and then leapt out the front door, turning to Abe and then flushing gently and looking down to his toes. Abe blinked at first, then remembered their late-night texting and felt a similar heat in his cheeks. To fight it, he reached over, tugging Mihashi’s shirt and starting to walk down the path to the road. Mihashi stepped into place, twisting his fingers together a bit before letting them drop as he turned to Abe with a bright expression.

“Where are we…?”

“Secret,” Abe responded, letting his lips pull into a smirk when Mihashi pouted. The blond then perked up, clasping his hands in his shirt as he blinked at Abe with wide eyes. He started talking about how hard he’d been studying the past few days so that he could do extra well on his exams and not worry anyone on the team, and how even Tajima had come over to study a bit, though Mihashi tapered off a bit and admitted that they often turned to video games and baseball magazines instead of studying if they kept at it too long. It was nice, Abe thought, walking through the streets with Mihashi at his side, chatting on with a voice that was a little jagged with the sudden stops and starts but that occasionally mellowed into a flow of information that would have been absolutely inane had it been from anyone else but felt extremely important coming from Mihashi. 

When they finally got to the small shopping area that had the cafe Abe had used to book their cooking class, he started eyeing Mihashi carefully to gauge his reaction. Mihashi noticed, looking back to Abe and then around as if to try and guess the present, and Abe saw the exact moment that Mihashi figured it out by the sign posted out front of the cafe when Abe slowed, directing people inside for the cake baking class. Mihashi looked to Abe, eyes wide and practically sparkling, and it was when Mihashi’s hand snatched over to grasp his tightly that Abe knew he’d hit a home run.

“Are we…?” Mihashi asked, and Abe nodded, causing Mihashi to swell up before huffing out with a smile that was as wide and perfect as Abe had ever seen. He pulled Mihashi inside with the hand that the pitcher was still clutching tightly, opening the door with a small bell jingle and spotting a girl around their age at the counter. 

“Welcome! Are you here for the cooking class?” she asked, and Abe nodded, telling her his name and then following towards the back kitchen when she confirmed their party of two and asked them to follow. There were a few other people in the room, some much older and some appearing to be more comfortable with cooking equipment than others judging on some of the apprehensive stares at the complex equipment around the shop. Abe was definitely with them, but Mihashi pulled him up to one of the stations with full bravado, fingers clutching Abe’s tightly and happy noises chirping out of his giddy expression with a frequency Abe hadn’t seen since Mihashi’s father brought them baked steam buns for the start of their second school year.

The instructor came in after a while, and had everyone pair up at a station before providing aprons. Abe pulled his on, watching as Mihashi tied his expertly and then nudged Abe to turn around before tying his knot as well. He smiled, leaning over and ruffling Mihashi’s hair fondly, then looked up when the instructor started talking, describing that they were going to be making a small cake perfect for splitting with someone. Mihashi blushed and looked over to Abe, who mentally shot Shinooka a blissful thought for a great idea. 

It started off well enough, as Abe and Mihashi huddled together over the station to follow the steps the instructor wrote on the board and described one by one. Preheat the oven. Check. Abe had that on lockdown. Next was to mix together the liquid ingredients, and he watched, impressed, as Mihashi cracked the eggs open on the side of the bowl and managed to get the egg in there without getting the shell inside. Abe had bit into one too many egg shells the few times he’d tried to scramble his own eggs, and he watched carefully as Mihashi cracked another, memorizing the wrist movement and the small flicks Mihashi did to get the most egg white in the bowl as possible. Abe then took the whisk that Mihashi presented to him, carefully stirring until everything was blended together.

Then, they sifted the flour out into a measuring bowl, and Abe turned on the mixer as he dumped the flour in when Mihashi handed it to him. He wasn’t quite sure what happened, but the next thing he knew, he and Mihashi were both sneezing, white filling his vision as he coughed around the flour cloud in front of his face. When it finally settled enough for him to open his eyes, he heard Mihashi laughing, and he looked over to see Mihashi’s face glowing with mirth as he looked at Abe.

“You’re supposed to add it in a little at a time, Abe-kun,” Mihashi said, hand reaching up and rustling Abe’s hair. Some flour billowed around his head from the movement of his hair, and Abe could only imagine just what he looked like. It was enough to send Mihashi into another laughing fit, clutching the counter as his face scrunched up and his laughter filled the room. Abe felt himself blush, mostly because of the fact that he’d messed up pretty badly and the other students were laughing at him too, but also partly because it was  _really nice_  to see Mihashi laughing like that, even if it was at him.

Mihashi leaned over after he managed to recover, fiddling with the batter a bit until it looked more like what the instructor had at the front of the class and less like the watery, flourless mess Abe had produced. Then he added some other ingredients, letting Abe measure the things out before Mihashi added them, until finally they poured their batter into a little square mold and put it in their small oven for the twenty minutes it would take to cook. 

“You look ridiculous,” Mihashi said while looking to Abe, who huffed and shook his head as flour continued to puff out of his hair with every movement. Abe huffed, then got an idea, crowding into Mihashi’s personal space by taking a step forward, and then he reached over, behind Mihashi, pulling the string of his apron undone slowly, letting his eyes drop to Mihashi’s mouth. He heard the soft hitch in Mihashi’s breath, felt fingers twine in his own apron, but just when he was going to lean in for a brief smooch, Mihashi’s face screwed up and a snort of laughter came out, and then the blond was ducking his face away, covering his mouth with his hand as his shoulders shook with laughter. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just… you really look funny, Abe-kun…”

“Geez,” Abe muttered, pulling his flour-coated apron off and putting it on the counter. He grabbed a towel and wetted it, wiping down his face as best as he could and shaking his hair, only to pause when Mihashi took the towel out of his hands. Getting on tip toe, Mihashi rested a hand on Abe’s shoulder to steady himself, then got the flour where Abe had apparently missed it, face close and bright with humor and affection. Mihashi’s lips curled into a smile when he finally planted a brief kiss to the tip of Abe’s nose and then came down off his tip toes, causing Abe to blush more than if Mihashi had stuck his tongue down Abe’s throat and gripped his ass, for some unbelievable reason.

“There you go,” Mihashi chirped, putting the rag down on top of Abe’s apron. He reached over, twining their fingers together, and for a moment, Abe was entranced by how utterly  _happy_  Mihashi looked, mouth curled in a permanent smile and hand warm against his own, eyes locked on their cake through the oven door and watching as it rose and baked nicely. Some of the other students were chatting, and Abe watched as a pair that had come in as individuals seemed to be hitting it off extremely well, while another pair looked absolutely awkward. He looked back to Mihashi, who was still clutching him fondly and humming, and he wondered what they looked like to others, for a moment, before Mihashi’s eyes finally tore from the oven and met his. 

The instructor came back after a few minutes, inspecting everyone’s cake as they were pulled out of the oven. Abe adamantly grabbed the glove and removed their cake, because hell if Mihashi was going to burn himself getting a stupid little cake out of the oven. It looked… like a cake, Abe mused, blinking down at it and tapping it like the instructor said to test that it was done. It was springy, as it was supposed to be, and Abe exhaled in relief. Then, he and Mihashi pulled their aprons back on, grabbing the ingredients for the icing and a new mixing bowl. 

This time, Mihashi added in the ingredients, precluding another ingredient cloud that would have Mihashi laughing too hard to kiss him. Mihashi explained while working that they were giving the cake time to cool, because icing a hot cake would ruin the icing, and Abe nodded, filing away the information in case he ever got brave enough to make a cake on his own. There was a lot of stuff that went into making a cake as easy as this, he thought, wondering how the hell people made things that were even more complex than this and getting a sudden appreciation for his mother’s cooking.

When the icing was finished, Abe reached out and pulled their cake closer, taking the icing and spreading it over the cake. It was messy, and he got a bunch on the plate and not on the cake, but after a while, the vanilla cake was covered in the white icing. Then, taking a bit of food dye, he mixed it up and made the red icing, put it in the fill bag, and messily wrote out a barely legible ‘Happy Birthday Mihashi’ on the top that had the pitcher burrowing into his side with smothered happy hums in his ribcage. Finally, Mihashi took the knife and cut the cake in half, giving Abe one piece and taking the other for himself. Abe bit into the cake nervously, then mentally cheered when the cake was not only edible, it was actually good. The cake wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, but Mihashi’s smile when he looked at Abe might have been.

Finally, the instructor congratulated them on their cakes and let the students go with coupons for another class, which Abe pocketed carefully to save for another day he needed a date idea. Then, Mihashi curled his hand into Abe’s, and the two strolled out onto the street, smelling of sugar and vanilla and meandering around the little shopping area mindlessly. Mihashi was humming again, Abe noted, the blond swinging their hands slightly as he stepped, all but sparkling as he peered into the shops and occasionally pointed out something that interested him to Abe, who very carefully watched his interests for future gift ideas.

It was almost too early when Abe’s pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out to see a text from Tajima telling him that the surprise party was ready at Mihashi’s house, and to get Mihashi there pronto. Abe sighed, clutching his hand a little tighter around Mihashi’s, which got the blond’s attention. “What is it?” he asked, and Abe ran his thumb over Mihashi’s hand fondly.

“There’s one more part to today,” he said, watching as Mihashi blossomed with happiness, and he could see the thought in Mihashi’s eyes, the  _there’s more?!_  that was almost spoken with how obvious it was, and Abe dragged Mihashi back towards the Mihashi residence, unable to be too sour about the end of their date when Mihashi looked that happy for part two.

When they got to Mihashi’s house, Abe released Mihashi’s hand, looking down at his palm and feeling a twinge of grumpiness when he realized that his palm was unsatisfactorily cold without Mihashi’s pressed against his, but as soon as Mihashi opened the door, the rest of the second year Nishiura baseball team shouted ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIHASHI’ with the kind of volume Abe had only heard before from Touri. Next to him, Mihashi jumped, mouth going into the wide diamond shape it always did when he was surprised, eyes looking to Abe, who grinned and pushed Mihashi in his house by the shoulder.

They’d ordered pizza and gotten a cake, and Mihashi’s eyes went wide at the small pile of presents that had collected in the living room. Tajima’s arm wrapped around Mihashi’s neck, dragging the blond into the room, and Abe watched as Sakaeguchi stepped forward, looking up towards Abe’s hair in amusement.

“You look like you got in a fight with a bag of flour and lost,” Sakaeguchi said, earning a grunt.

“Yeah, well, that’s not too far off the mark, actually. Turns out there’s a way to make a cake, and my way is not that way.” Sakaeguchi snickered, then hummed pleasantly as he looked to Mihashi, then back to Abe.

“You two are getting along really well lately. Did something happen?” he asked, and Abe looked from Sakaeguchi to where Mihashi was huddled around his pile of presents, eyes wide and surrounded by friends. Abe felt a tug of… something, in his gut, he didn’t know what, but it caused his eyes to prick with a sudden wetness he didn’t really understand, and he swallowed around a thickness in his throat that shouldn’t be there but was.

“Yeah,” he answered simply, looking to Sakaeguchi with what he knew was probably a gross and tender expression, but he couldn’t help it with the appreciation he felt for his friend. “We’re keeping it low for now, though.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that,” Sakaeguchi hummed in response, causing all of Abe’s tender affection to fly out the window at Sakaeguchi’s devious expression. Yeah, ok, his best friend was actually a demon, or something.

But he couldn’t stay grumpy, not when Mihashi kept looking at him with the kind of happy expression that had been so rare in their first few months and had gotten more and more common, and just felt  _right_  to see on his face now. When Mihashi’s mother brought in the cake and Abe stared at Mihashi’s face lit by the candles, he got that same urge to cry that had struck him so suddenly earlier, and he couldn’t help but reach over and grasp Mihashi’s hand under the table, out of everyone’s sight but enough to calm him down, enough for Mihashi to look at him strangely before he smiled and squeezed back.

The party drug on into the night with chattery boys and Mihashi’s mother earning several apologies after Hanai bowed and promised that Tajima and Mizutani would absolutely positively clean up their mess before they left and that Izumi and Hamada would return every single pillow to its original location after Hamada sewed up the one that exploded mid-fight. Their promises were kept, and as the night fell and yawns started, slowly the team started trickling out, until finally even Abe stood at Mihashi’s doorstep, the last to leave and the one to see Mihashi’s excitement finally die into exhaustion in the doorway.

“Go get some rest. You look dead on your feet,” Abe commented, reaching up and lightly tugging on a lock of Mihashi’s hair by his face. Mihashi blushed a light pink, reaching up and grabbing Abe’s hand, bringing it to his cheek and holding Abe’s palm against his skin while leaning in. Abe stepped forward, pressing their foreheads together and rubbing his nose against Mihashi’s, exhaling softly as he could still smell the sugar and vanilla, and then humming against Mihashi’s lips when he tasted the ramune Mihashi had during dinner and a bit of the strawberry sweetness from his birthday cake. Mihashi swept a tongue over Abe’s lips, enticing Abe’s mouth to linger, to press harder, and Abe did for only a moment, savoring the way Mihashi’s fingers tightened on his hand where it was still pressed against Mihashi’s face, the way Mihashi swooned in when Abe leaned back, the pitcher’s strong hands clutching Abe’s shoulders as he laughed under his breath in Abe’s face and nuzzled him lovingly.

“Thank you, Abe-kun,” Mihashi murmured, and Abe reached his hands up to cup Mihashi’s face, pressing one last kiss to Mihashi’s cheek and smiling against that fair skin, then pulled back and grabbed his bike where he’d left it. He turned one last time at the end of the driveway, lifting his hand in one last farewell before he hefted his leg over his bike and mounted, turning on his light and whirring down the streets with a light feeling in his chest and warmth spreading in every corner of his body.

When he finally got home, he greeted his mother with a smile, causing her to raise a suspicious eyebrow he didn’t even care about, and he ruffled Shun’s hair fondly as he passed the couch where his brother was playing his video games, bidding his father goodnight and slipping into his bedroom to grab his pajamas before he took his shower. Once he was clean, he pulled them on, went into his bedroom, and collapsed on his bed, grabbing his phone off his bedside table and pulling up the contact information for Mihashi with the kind of muscle memory that should have embarrassed him but instead made him feel even lighter.

 

[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi ren]  
[Subj: Goodnight]  
[Sleep well. See you tomorrow.]

[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[To: Abe Takaya]  
[Subj: thanks again for today]  
[goodnight, abe-kun. let’s have a great  
day together tomorrow!]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sweats] [hides word count behind my back] 
> 
> Um. Well. You see. These boys started sexting before I knew what was happening and. Well. I ah. Uh. You know how these things just


	9. Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apologize this took so long, really I do, but when you're eaten by a pacrim au you're eaten by a pacrim au. [sheepish smile]

The library echoed with low murmuring voices of study groups and the turning of pages mingling with pencils scraping and desperate tapping fingers, filling Abe’s ears with the sounds of what definitely felt like the day before exams. Momoe had been bullied by Shiga-sensei into canceling practice for everyone to focus on their studies, and he planned on using it well. His textbooks were collected in front of him, notes open as he stared down at them, mind wandering for just a moment when a familiar warmth brushed his left side and a comforting smell teased his senses. It was Mihashi leaning in, arm pressing against Abe’s, solid and gentle despite the strength Abe knew first-hand lingered beneath that skin.

“Abe-kun, if you’re not… can you… this one?” Mihashi asked, drawing Abe’s gaze to wide golden eyes with that soft tone, a little above a whisper but quiet considering his proximity and the fact they were in the library. He blinked through Mihashi’s eyelashes, then glanced down to see the blond working on his math, half the page covered in scribbles and the other half smeared with what looked like eraser smudges. But he was trying, Abe thought, recognizing the definite improvement over the last year, when he’d gotten to this point with Mihashi before and seen little more than blank paper and a sheepish half-smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Abe agreed, leaning over a bit more than he really needed to, because there was a mellow comfort in the contact of their arms. At least until he realized that Mihashi would need to move his arm to write, and so he moved his arm to the back of Mihashi’s chair, except there was a spark of pleasure in that too, a quiet possessiveness that he would never have expected of himself but finding nonetheless. He exhaled a bit, a little frustrated with his lack of ability to concentrate when Mihashi was counting on him, and turned his focus back to Mihashi’s math. 

Within a few moments of showing Mihashi how to set up the problem, the blond was churning away nicely at the practice problems Nishihiro had set up for everyone, setting almost all of them correctly. Abe looked back to his history notes, keeping his arm on the back of Mihashi’s chair because it felt good, dutifully reciting important information to himself, until he became carefully aware in the subtle shift in Mihashi’s focus. It started off as a bit of a nervous energy, then grew until Abe looked to see Mihashi’s eyes cutting to his face and then back down, tongue flicking out over his lips and teeth digging into his lower lip. Recognizing all too well the signs of the end of his pitcher’s concentration, Abe turned back, letting the arm on the back of Abe’s chair bend at the elbow so he could tug on the back of Mihashi’s hair once, just enough to get his attention, falling back down and hanging loosely off the side.

“Do you need a break?” Abe asked, and Mihashi’s shaking head almost knocked right into his own. Abe scowled, propping his head up on his right hand, elbow pressing hard into the table as he leaned forward to catch Mihashi’s gaze and hold it. “You’re not focusing, Mihashi. Are you sure you don’t need a break? You’ll get more work done if you’re concentrating.”

“It’s not… I’m okay, it’s…” Mihashi said, wiggling in his chair and bringing his hands in his lap. Abe raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for the words to arrange themselves in Mihashi’s brain and make it down and out of his quivering mouth. “We have… a short practice tomorrow!”

“Yeah,” Abe acknowledged slowly, not putting that fact together with why Mihashi was having a difficult time studying for his exams. “So?”

“S-So…! I was wondering if…” Mihashi’s eyes glanced up, and Abe blinked once, half expecting them to drop back down to Mihashi’s lap and finding himself pinned by a startlingly unwavering hazel stare. “I was wondering if… Abe-kun… if you wanted to come over. To my house!”

Oh. Abe swallowed, spine straightening as his head lifted off his palm, and that was it, really? “Sure,” he agreed, and before his eyes, Mihashi’s face bloomed with happiness, glowing from the inside out as his mouth burst into a grin that was as quiet as it was absolutely stunning. And then, Mihashi turned back to his math worksheet, hand dutifully moving the pencil over the paper, eyes bright but focused like they got on the baseball mound, and yes, it seemed that really was it. Abe turned back to his own studies, mind a bit fuzzy with the afterimage of Mihashi’s trademark smile, hand tight on his pitcher’s chair and skin buzzing with something he didn’t quite understand, something that settled just beneath the surface and made him all but vibrate in excitement. Something that felt good, and that looked like Mihashi when he closed his eyes.

\----------

The next day, Abe finished his final exam with a pull of delight. Hanai looked equally satisfied next to him, and he glanced to see Shinooka tug the zipper on her pencil case shut with a satisfied expression, and Mizutani stretched over his desk with a loud drawn-out noise that had several of the girls giggling about how cute he was. Finally finished and ready for summer, Abe thought, eyes focused on where his hands were grabbing his things and pulling them into his bag but mind already on the baseball diamond, more than ready to feel the sweat and the deep burn of a crouch as Mihashi’s pitch landed perfectly in his glove. He probably did well, Abe thought as he walked out into the hall, not nearly as worried for Mihashi’s grades as he had been last year, though Tajima was a different story.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Tajima came into view as soon as they got to their bike racks, walking on wobbly feet over to Hanai and crashing into the captain’s back, muffled noises of agony disappearing between Hanai’s shoulder blades. Hanai reached around and grabbed Tajima by the cuff, shaking him slightly, and Abe left them to their devices, more interested in where Mihashi was fiddling with the lock on his bike. 

“Hey,” he greeted, causing Mihashi to jolt before looking over his shoulder. His spine relaxed, face pulling into a pleased smile before he jumped up, hands clenched into tight fists at his chest as he stepped forward, eyes glittering in excitement.

“I did really well!” he proclaimed, face flushing happily. “There were only a couple I didn’t know, and most of them were just like what you helped me with! Thank you, Abe-kun!” he chirped, and Abe felt that familiar emptiness on his face that he was beginning to recognize as a desire to kiss Mihashi senseless, and it was  _hard_  not to, requiring physical restraint as he limited himself to petting Mihashi’s head, though even that was more intimate than he intended when Mihashi made a soft pleased noise that had Abe’s fingers lingering longer than he’d planned. 

“That’s really great, Mihashi. I’m really proud of you,” Abe praised, watching each word burn in Mihashi’s skin with awareness. It was impossible not to press more praise, not with the way Mihashi blossomed with each word, not even with the fact that they were on their way to the baseball diamond, surrounded by chatting teammates. “You worked really hard. Good job.”

Whether it was because of the beginning summer and the end of school or Abe’s words, he didn’t know, but he watched as Mihashi had a stellar practice that afternoon, pitching the kind of game that Abe had wet dreams of as a catcher, and even batting surprisingly well, eyes sharp on the ball and sweat dripping as he pushed himself hard, working harder each time his gaze met Abe’s and sparkled. It was enchanting, watching him play, and Abe found himself drifting through practice in direct contrast, until finally Momoe called an end to their early practice and they were all biking back to the clubroom for showers before going home. 

In the blink of an eye, Abe found himself walking down the familiar street with Mihashi and Tajima, listening to their inane chatter about their exam, Tajima wailing when Mihashi confidently told him the answer to problems that the third baseman had apparently gotten wrong. They chatted until they got to the convenience store and Abe’s split, and Tajima suddenly fell silent and diverted his gaze in such an obvious manner that Abe stared, confused. Then, in a few seconds, Tajima peeked back, starting when his eyes met Abe’s, freckled face devoid of any humor and instead looking as confused as he had when talking about the exam.

“You’re not going home?” Tajima asked, and Abe opened his mouth to answer but Mihashi was quicker, hands tight on his bike handles as he spoke.

“Abe-kun is… coming home with me today!” he said, voice a little too loud for the public street, and Abe watched as Tajima blinked once, then twice, and then suddenly he was staring into a gigantic toothy grin, Tajima’s hand slapping firmly on Mihashi’s shoulder and clutching it tightly.

“I see, I see! Well, I will leave you two alone, then! Good luck, Mihashi!” Tajima jumped onto his bike and sped away, presumably back to his own house, and Abe felt rather vulnerable all of a sudden, like there was something he’d missed, or like he was the butt of a joke that had gone over his head. But the feeling died down when he looked and saw Mihashi wiggling excitedly in his shoes, and he decided to take the initiative to start walking towards Mihashi’s house in case the blond had somehow forgotten what they were doing.

Mihashi’s home came into view, and Abe put his bike next to where Mihashi locked his up, letting it lean against the other as Mihashi turned towards the entryway. He pulled a key out, sliding it into the lock, and then pushing the door to the side, stepping in and looking over his shoulder to Abe expectantly. Abe followed, baffled as to why Mihashi’s front door would be locked, and it was when he was toeing off his shoes that he felt how empty and devoid of noise Mihashi’s house was, and he remembered rather immediately that Mihashi’s mother worked during the day, unlike his own. He looked over to Mihashi, who was pulling his shoes off and humming happily under his breath, then back down to his feet, a strange flustered feeling coiling in his stomach. 

After they were shoe-less, Mihashi disappeared into the kitchen, moving quickly. Abe made to follow, causing Mihashi to bump into his chest when he rocketed out of the kitchen with what looked like take-out menus in his hand. The blond squawked, Abe’s hands reflexively reaching up to Mihashi’s shoulders to steady him and keep him from falling, and there was a breathless moment until Abe slowly released him, and Mihashi spoke softly, “Dinner?” 

Abe took one of the menus, walking into the living room and sitting down at the table, because it felt somehow less dangerous than proposing going up into Mihashi’s room. Mihashi settled next to him, not touching, but close enough that Abe could feel the heat radiating onto his skin, and he wasn’t completely sure what he’d ordered, but he pointed down to the menu and watched as Mihashi crawled on his hands and knees to get the phone to make the order. Abe tore his eyes off his pitcher, staring down at where his hands were folded in his lap, listening to Mihashi order their dinner in his quiet, stuttering voice that wasn’t the voice he used with Abe anymore, though it was still better than their first meeting on the baseball field what felt like so long ago, and then Abe was biting his lip, because it was astonishing to think that there had been a time in his life when Mihashi wasn’t there. A quiet ache filled his gut and twisted it around, but the moment a gentle warmth seeped into his personal bubble again, it disappeared, and he glanced over to see Mihashi settled next to him again, face open and a little troubled, but mostly happy.

“Abe-kun, I… wanted to ask,” Mihashi suddenly said, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he stared down at them, face slowly turning an interesting shade of red. “Is… was the class on my birthday… was that a… date?” 

His whole body burned at the question, and Abe knew for a complete fact that his face was as red as Mihashi’s looked. “Did… you want it to be one?” he asked carefully, mouth curling around the words  _yes you idiot_  before he swallowed them down fiercely. He needed to be sure, completely and unwaveringly sure, that Mihashi was the one driving this train. Absolutely no pressure, Abe thought, chewing the inside of his cheek as he studied Mihashi’s reaction carefully. No pressure for any reaction, just a valid response, Mihashi’s true feelings, not any manipulated by what Mihashi might think  _he_  wanted. And when Mihashi nodded shyly, fingers tugging on a loose thread, Abe exhaled gently, relief filling his chest and replacing the stale breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, and he could feel the tension melt out of his face as a smile took its place. “Me too. I think… it was definitely a date.”

At that, Mihashi perked up immediately, spine straightening from where he’d been hunched over and body leaning into Abe’s space. “M-Me too! I think so, too!” And then, he blushed again, but he didn’t hunch over and mess with his shirt. Instead, his gaze fell down, and Abe followed it to his hand, watching as Mihashi’s fingers slowly reached out, tracing up his thigh towards where he’d rested his hands. He lifted his left hand, and immediately, Mihashi’s right palm pressed against his, fingers threading together and warmth spreading all the way down to his toes at the contact. He watched as something similar seemed to happy with Mihashi, a melty look spreading on the blond’s face, accented with a gentle blush and the kind of smile Abe wouldn’t mind seeing every day for the rest of his life. 

And then, Mihashi was leaning forward, eyelids fluttering closed, and Abe met him halfway, lips brushing softly against Mihashi’s and savoring the way Mihashi’s fingers tightened against his own, the kiss feather-soft like the butterflies dancing in his stomach. He pulled back to breathe, nuzzling Mihashi’s nose with his own and inhaling Mihashi’s sigh, dizzy and drunk with their closeness. When Mihashi straightened to pull back, his eyes opened, and he saw Mihashi open his mouth to speak before closing it, then opening it again, eyes slowly meeting Abe’s.

“That was a date,” Mihashi repeated, and Abe nodded once, eyes falling to Mihashi’s lips and he  _really wanted to kiss Mihashi_ , but then Mihashi hummed, hand tightening even more on Abe’s. “And… and we kiss! And, hold hands, and…” Mihashi looked about like he was about to pass out with how red he was, and Abe looked away from Mihashi’s mouth to his eyes just in time to see Mihashi bite his lip hard and stare at Abe’s chest. “So… it’ll happen again, then… like… like in the clubroom, and…”

There was a second of hesitation in Abe’s brain, and then immediately, he was hyper aware of the situation, of Mihashi’s hand clutching his, of the lingering warmth from their kiss, and the absolute stillness of the rest of the house, echoing the fact that Mihashi’s mother was not home, Mihashi’s words bouncing around in his skull that  _practice ends early tomorrow, Abe-kun_  and  _do you want to come over_ , and everything fell into perfect place in his mind, everything, and loudest of all, perhaps, was the screaming in his skull that Mihashi had  _planned_  this, and Abe clutched his free hand to his face, feeling his cheeks incinerate as he felt way too hot for the fact that Mihashi’s house had air conditioning.

He looked to Mihashi over his hand, and his eyes fell back down to where Mihashi’s teeth were worrying his lower lip, and then his eyes fell lower, to the soft skin of Mihashi’s throat, to the gentle slope of his shoulders, then back up again, and Abe swallowed thickly, his right hand falling from his face as he reached over and lightly touched the shoulder he’d studied, and when Mihashi made a soft noise and swooned in closer, Abe felt himself burn, his teeth clenching and everything rushing in his ears until he could barely breathe for all the noise of an empty house. 

“Can… can we kiss first?” Abe asked, staring at his hand as it tightened on Mihashi’s upper arm, and when he looked up, he expected a blush and was not disappointed, but he was, however, very suddenly dipped in ice water when the look in Mihashi’s eyes shifted, and suddenly it wasn’t a flush of excitement, but one of embarrassment.

“Did I… mess up?” Mihashi asked, his right hand releasing Abe’s as his fingers came to clutch up in his shirt, and alarm bells rang in Abe’s brain as clearly as if his ears were hearing the sound themselves. “I didn’t mean… if you don’t want to…”

“No - geez, idiot,” Abe grunted, reaching up with both of his hands and cupping Mihashi’s face, causing those golden eyes to flutter up to his own, and Abe huffed out a breath when he saw the beginning of tears collecting on Mihashi’s eyelids. He stared for a moment, studying Mihashi’s face, each perfect imperfection, letting his thumb lightly caress as he tried desperately to think of how to say what needed to be said and feeling not for the first time the incredible frustration that even now, even as close as they had become, even like this, communication was so  _fucking hard_. “It’s not…!” He closed his eyes and inhaled, then exhaled, opening them again and softening his voice a bit. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just… I want to be sure we’re both ready,” he said, mostly pleased with his words even if they made his skin feel hot with the heavy implication that sometime in the future they were going to do  _that_  again. “Do you understand? I don’t… I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and I want to make sure that we’re okay. Like pitching. We have to warm up, first.”

Mihashi nodded slowly in his hold, blinking as a single tear fell and collided with Abe’s thumb. He wiped it off, then tenderly stroked Mihashi’s cheek, voice soft as he asked again, “Do you want to kiss?”

“Yes, please,” Mihashi whispered, and Abe leaned in, feeling the warmth of Mihashi’s affection in the blush against his palms, in the way Mihashi leaned into the kiss, fingers slowly reaching up to curl in Abe’s shirt as a soft exhale tickled Abe’s face and tasted like the familiar mixture of pocari and  _Mihashi_ , and it was awesome, Abe thought, his last thought,  _Mihashi_  was awesome,  _this_  was awesome, and then the burning feeling from before fluttered in his gut, fanned by each slow shift of their lips over one another. More, he needed more, fingers carding into Mihashi’s hair as he tilted his head and pressed harder into the kiss, shivering as there was a tug on his shirt and Mihashi leaning forward, and when Abe gasped in a breath, there was movement, and suddenly he was too hot again as Mihashi climbed forward, arms wrapping around Abe’s neck as he pressed close. 

“Is it okay?” Mihashi asked, voice little more than hot pants of air against Abe’s lips, and he couldn’t answer, not in Japanese, so instead he twisted his fingers in Mihashi’s shirt and pulled, crashing their lips together and feeling the sound Mihashi made, his hands chasing the shivers down Mihashi’s sides, kneading and then pulling, and when Abe felt Mihashi’s beltloops beneath his brushing fingers, he slipped his thumbs through and tugged hard, and with a aching noise that echoed between Abe’s ears, Mihashi shifted forward, legs on either side of Abe’s hips and their bodies pressed close, forehead to hip, hot and aching beneath clothes that were more in the way than Abe had ever felt before. Mihashi’s arms tightened around his neck, and Abe craned his neck upwards, sucking Mihashi’s tongue in his mouth the instant he felt it against his lips, exhaling his groan into Mihashi’s mouth when there was movement in his lap and gods it felt good to have Mihashi move against him like this, his hands were touching everything they could reach before settling on the curve of Mihashi’s ass and the sweat-curled hair at the back of his head, holding him close before tugging, pulling Mihashi’s hair between tight fingers until the blond broke the sloppy kiss, groaning into the room when Abe sank his teeth into familiar territory just behind his ear, lightly, then harder, sucking and earning fingers scrambling at his shoulders, tight in his clothes and tighter in the binding coil suffocating him in his lungs. 

And then, there was a sound that had Mihashi stiffening in his hold, and Abe blinked through the haze as he blinked rapidly, placing the noise as the doorbell as his eyes slowly fell to the floor where Mihashi had discarded the takeout menus in a characteristically messy fashion. The sound registered again, and Mihashi stiffened in Abe’s hold, sliding out of his lap and clearing his throat as he raised his forearm to wipe his mouth, face bright red as he rocked onto uneasy feet and left the room. Abe stared after him, eyes wide on the open doorway between the hall and the living room where he could hear Mihashi talking with the delivery person, and suddenly Abe realized exactly what had happened, and his face was hot against his forearms as he folded his arms on the table in front of him and pressed his face hard into them, pretty sure that steam was coming off of his head. He shifted, bringing himself closer to the safety beneath the table, and a distant curiosity of just what would have happened if the delivery person hadn’t come, just how far Mihashi would have let him go, and whether the blond was ready for the answer to that question, if  _he_  was ready for the answer to that question. His gut curled into a knot and stayed that way until Mihashi stepped in with two handfuls of food, prompting Abe to stand and grab one, putting it at the table and waiting for Mihashi to sort it out since he was the one who knew what they’d ordered. Abe did, however, allow himself a single pleasure, reaching out with his left hand and brushing a light touch on the back of Mihashi’s hand, curling his fingers around and giving it a soft squeeze before he released it so Mihashi could eat. And then, just like that, Mihashi was leaning over, shoulder pressed against his, and he stayed like that through their entire meal, quiet but close and so very, very warm. 

When Mihashi’s mother finally did come home, Mihashi leaned away as soon as the door rattled. She seemed pleased but not too surprised to see Abe there, he noticed, patting him on the head and thanking him for taking care of Mihashi, and when he made the mistake of looking at his phone, he saw just how late it had gotten, and a quiet ache filled his stomach at the thought that it was time to leave Mihashi and go home to pretend that everything was okay when they weren’t together. His legs fought him as he moved to stand, his hand empty and his side cold without Mihashi pressed into his side, except then Mihashi was there, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the entryway, watching as he pulled on his shoes and grabbed his bag. Mihashi’s mother bid him farewell, told him to come again soon, and then went into the kitchen to make her own dinner, leaving Abe to step out into the night. 

Abe turned, about to tell Mihashi goodnight and instead catching Mihashi’s lips awkwardly against his own, but with a twist of Mihashi’s fingers at his nape, they corrected, and Mihashi had always been willing to work hard at perfecting the things he wanted, Abe thought, including, apparently, kissing Abe, because it was a short few moments of hot breath and tongue swirling just so in his mouth before Abe was left breathless as Mihashi pulled back, the consolation that Mihashi was breathing hard minor, and yet so large in his cupped hands, and he closed his eyes as he reached up and clutched Mihashi’s face in his own, eyes pricking suddenly with wetness he didn’t understand as he felt so very full in that moment, needing to press his mouth to Mihashi’s mouth and exhale some of the tightness in his chest, except Mihashi seemed to do exactly the same, and when their lips parted, his lungs were just as heavy as before. 

“Goodnight,” Abe murmured against Mihashi’s lips, knowing that he needed to leave and go home, but somehow unable to separate the thought of his cold bed and the very warm Mihashi curling into him, the lips brushing just so against his pulling into what felt like an incredibly satisfied smile.

“Night, Abe-kun,” Mihashi responded, and it was Mihashi who stepped back, leaning against the doorway and giving Abe the proper momentum to grab his bike, one last searing look before he mounted it and made for his home, completely dazzled and taking each turn by muscle memory in wonder at all of the things he’d seen in Mihashi’s eyes, and what each thing had meant, and what was this incredible, awesome thing between them, and all of those other things that filled his mind until he was home and barely able to greet his mother when he passed her on his way upstairs. It was only when he got home for the night, bathed and alone, that he felt like he could properly exhale, eyes closing as he slowly drifted off into sleep, vision bursting into gold.

 


	10. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow can you believe this fic is half over???? omg ;;;;
> 
> i actually had this chapter finished last night but i didn't want to update two fics on one day. bad for my reputation of keeping y'all waiting forever for an update hahahahaha.... [sweats]
> 
> thank you everyone for your continued and very very very valued support!!
> 
> [princemihashi - shinooka helping abe](http://sukekou.tumblr.com/post/104805114327/hah-sorry-i-rlly-wanted-to-dialogue-from-this) plEASE do yourself a favor and go look at this omgGGGG it's so cute hhhh thank you so much jill!!!

Abe’s morning started off as perfectly as his evening had ended, waking a few moments before his alarm feeling as refreshed as if he’d been born again. He brushed his teeth, changed, and went down for a breakfast that was as plain as it was perfectly every day. Sort of boring, but with the small lingering taste that maybe every morning could be like this. He finished eating, ruffled Shun’s hair, and then biked to the baseball field, at which point everything fell apart.

It started when he opened the gate to the baseball field and saw Mihashi already buttoning up his practice jersey, hazel eyes wide when they looked over to meet his. Abe froze, staring hard at the blond who looked just as startled as he did, except that Mihashi blinked his eyes and gave him a quick half-smile, lips pressing together as he tucked in his shirt and reached down for his hat. “G-good morning,” Mihashi greeted, hands fiddling with the brim of his hat as he stared down at it with a red face and then slowly dragged his gaze up to meet Abe’s. Abe swallowed past the breath trapped in his throat as he stepped forward, because Mihashi  _never_  got here before he did, but here he was, hand reaching out at the same time Abe reached out for his, their fingers mingling together as close as they dared to get in case someone else came.

“Hey,” Abe greeted, startled by the breathless sound of his voice to his own ears, watching as Mihashi bloomed under the warmth of his tone. He traced an arc on the back of Mihashi’s hand with his thumb, the one place on his pitcher’s hand that was soft, and stared into Mihashi’s eyes as long as he could before the gate to the field rattled again. He squeezed Mihashi’s hand before dropping it, lifting two knuckles to rap lightly on Mihashi’s forehead. “Let’s have a good practice today, yeah?” 

Mihashi nodded, then looked over when Hanai stepped into the dugout, sighing heavily and probably preparing a tirade about something his mother said over breakfast. Abe pulled his shirt over his head, chest filled with the anticipation of a good day and a fulfilling practice that would end with walking Mihashi most of the way home and smooching him a little at the crossroads. He felt his ears warm up at the very thought, felt the tingling in his stomach, and the thought that yeah, okay, he really,  _really_  liked kissing Mihashi. Even if he wasn’t so sure that he was anything beyond mediocre at it, Mihashi seemed to enjoy it too, and it felt good. Really good. 

His good mood dipped a bit when practice officially started with their group meditation, and he watched as Mihashi settled between Oki and Izumi, arms resting on his thighs as his palms waited for theirs. Abe stared, running his tongue over the back of his teeth with a sudden bizarre thought that Mihashi was - no, he wasn’t avoiding him, Abe thought, settling in with Sakaeguchi to his left and Nishihiro to his right. That was stupid. It wasn’t too uncommon for them not to be next to each other during meditation, and they’d had a nice moment earlier in the dugout, and Mihashi had no reason to think anything was wrong with them right now.

Or at least,  _Abe_  didn’t think so, but when he watched as Mihashi snagged Sakaeguchi for catching practice and left Abe with Izumi, the blond’s face wide and bright and definitely  _not_  focused on Abe, the tendril of worry dug deeper into his skin, until he was glancing over at the second baseman and the pitcher frequently enough to catch himself doing it, gritting his teeth and pointedly staring at Izumi instead. But even that backfired on him, as Izumi walked up when they were done, blue eyes staring as he put the ball directly in Abe’s mitt. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone revealing that it was incredibly obvious that something  _wasn’t_  okay but not putting the pressure on for Abe to go spilling his guts, either. But even as Abe worked the complaint over in his head, not only was it something he’d  _definitely_  not tell anyone (save, perhaps, Sakaeguchi), it seemed stupid in his head, even to himself.  _‘I’m worried Mihashi got freaked out when we didn’t have sex last night. I thought everything was okay but let’s look at my track record of stellar observation skills.’_  Yeah, no.

“It’ll be fine,” he said to Izumi, because that felt true, it felt like a good answer, and he was going to make it happen. He wasn’t going to let an important conversation slide by for weeks again, not when it had caused the both of them so much anguish at the beginning of the summer, and especially not when Mihashi needed to be focusing extra hard on his pitching for the upcoming summer tournament. The last thing the blond needed was any extra pressure from him.

Izumi shrugged, the ‘suit yourself’ as loud and clear in the motion as if he’d said it himself. He turned and went to his next station, while Abe went for batting practice as scheduled. He took out all of his frustrations on the ball, his hitting average taking a nice upwards peak despite the fact that he finished feeling even more flat. His arms were tired and his legs sore as his core ached with the turning of his trunk, but worst yet was the twist in his gut when he looked up to Mihashi and saw him chatting with Tajima. He found himself wondering what Mihashi was saying, if Tajima was Mihashi’s confidant like Sakaeguchi was his, and somehow, he felt a little bit nervous when the third baseman looked at him with a smile right before break.

Before his feelings could be confirmed or denied however, a familiar stature stepped between them with excited eyes and clenched fists of excitement. Kamon clasped his hands together in front of himself, then bowed low, baseball cap falling off in his excitement. “Abe-senpai! Harada-kun and I are playing relief in the next game, so I was wondering if you could help me with the pitch calling during the break!” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,” Abe agreed, watching as the first year straightened and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before dashing off, probably to go fetch his firecracker pitcher and pull him in. Abe exhaled, somehow already kind of regretting this, but figuring that it would be good for him to go over the pitch selection himself, and also a way to make their team stronger. If something happened to him again, after all, they’d be counting on Kamon. 

As Abe had expected, Harada came on Kamon’s heels, both of them sitting seiza next to where Abe had been sitting on the bench chewing lazily on his rice balls. He sighed through his nose, reaching over to his clipboard where he’d written out all of his notes for Mihashi to memorize. He flicked his eyes over it, noticing with a small bit of irritation that it was as pristine as the moment that Abe had handed it to his pitcher in the halls a few days ago, telling him to take it and memorize it. Looking up from the paper, he saw Mihashi giggling with Sakaeguchi, and swallowed. “Mihashi!” he hollered, watching as the blond jumped and then looked in his direction. Lifting a hand and beckoning him over, Abe looked back down and took another bite. “Okay, I’ve got to go over this with Mihashi, so you two can just listen for now, I guess.”

Harada looked with sparkling eyes as his blond-haired idol came into the dugout, Mihashi’s fingers mingling together as his eyes fell to the first-year battery and then to Abe’s knees. “Wh… what is…”

“Come on. We’re going over the pitch calling for the game later this week,” Abe said, watching as Mihashi blinked once, then sat down, one leg tucked under him and the other pressed into the dirt of the dugout. 

“Oh, I made… a copy, and…” Mihashi said, and Abe looked down at the paper on his clipboard, jaw pausing from where it was chewing his rice ball. “I thought… you’d want your copy back, so…”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Abe said, finger flirting with the corner of the sheet as he felt a strange kind of guilt for doubting Mihashi’s dedication. He glanced up at the pitcher, who was blinking at him curiously, obviously waiting for him to start, then down to Kamon and Harada, who were both looking at him like he was a god. “Okay, so. The first batter likes the inside. He doesn’t have the reach to go too far to the outside, but if he figures out that we’re aiming there, he likes to creep up on the edge of the batter box to reach. Once he does that, he can’t get to the inside, so we hit him with an inside slider.”

Abe looked up to see Mihashi nodding, and when he looked over at Kamon, he looked as dazzled as the catcher next to him looked intent on memorizing every word out of Abe’s mouth. So Abe continued, going through the second batter, and then the third, and it was when he got to the fourth batter and looked up to see if Mihashi was retaining the information as well that he noticed the minute shift in the blond’s posture, his hazel eyes focused keenly on Abe’s in a manner that wasn’t quite consistent with him paying attention to baseball, but not the vague haze of drifting off, either. Abe blinked, maintaining the stare for a moment to see if he could decipher what was going on in his pitcher’s head, but almost as soon as he started trying, Mihashi’s gaze fell to the paper, his finger reaching out and tracing a diagram. His mouth wrapped around a small detail Abe hadn’t mentioned, eyes glancing back up at his, and Abe felt the skip of his heart the moment their gazes locked.

He almost opened his mouth to ask Mihashi if something was on his mind, even though he  _knew_ that there was, that  _something_  was bothering him - but before he could part his lips and say the words, he felt his jaw cement still, because a twinge of red-hot embarrassment flashed through his gut in perfect concert with the thought  _oh god what if he’s thinking about last night_ , and his teeth all but clicked together with how quickly he shut down his comment. He ached with the need to talk about it, to know exactly what was going on between those two ears that had Mihashi acting like he had been that morning, but another glance at the increasingly-confused first year battery had him swallowing thickly with nervousness. He couldn’t talk about it in front of them,  _Mihashi_  definitely wouldn’t talk about it in front of them, but he needed to do something before Mihashi got some idea bouncing around in his brain about how he was avoiding him, or mad, or something equally stupid.

“Are you feeling all right, Abe-senpai?” Harada’s sharp voice said, piercing through the cloud hanging over Abe’s head and startling him into realizing that he’d been staring anxiously at Mihashi’s knees for some undetermined about of time. He felt himself flush, about to open his mouth and say that of course he was fine, maybe he just needed some water, but before he could even get that far, there was a blur of movement and then pressure on his hand, and when he looked down, he saw Mihashi’s fingers curled tightly around his, and with a deft movement of his wrist, Mihashi had their palms pressed together. Abe felt the blistering heat of Mihashi’s hand against his own, but that came with the realization that his own hand was cold, and he saw the moment Mihashi’s expression fell a bit, hazel eyes lifting and meeting Abe’s with a silent probing.

Abe swallowed thickly, the taste of rice lost in the bitterness on the back of his throat, and then the resolution as he looked to the first years, who looked a little baffled, then back to Mihashi, whose gaze had yet to waver from Abe’s face. And then, Abe felt his lips curl into an upwards smile, his fingers slipping between Mihashi’s as he let their fingers mingle in a slightly more comfortable embrace. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, keeping his eyes locked with Mihashi’s as he spoke.

“We should work on this a bit better so we can explain how we came up with it to them,” he said, tongue running heavily over the roof of his mouth as he tightened his hold even more. “You should come over tonight.”

Before his eyes, Mihashi’s shoulders dropped slightly, his face brightening and his lips curling into something more closely resembling the happy smile Abe had gotten blissfully accustomed to seeing lately. He felt his own hand warm up in response, felt Mihashi’s grip tighten, knew that his own expression had probably cleared if the relaxed way Mihashi was looking at him was any indicator, and knew then that he’d made a good call. 

Practice continued and Abe felt freer in his motions, and by the time practice ended with the dying evening, he’d worked up a nice, satisfying sweat. He joined the others in biking to the club house, showered, and then left, noticing with an unusual awareness as Sakaeguchi and Suyama lingered behind, fingers brushing barely in the shadows of the lockers and whispering a single phrase that Abe realized in the middle of Mihashi and Tajima’s chatter on the way home was ‘happy anniversary’. An entire year they’d been dating, though Abe himself had only known since about December, and he looked down at Mihashi’s hands where they were resting on his bike handles, wondering if there would be a time when they would be the ones holding back, stealing a touch and maybe a kiss, mouthing that phrase on each other’s skin with a satisfied smile. 

Suddenly burning, Abe clutched his bike handles tightly, staring at the road passing beneath his feet until they got to the familiar break in the path. Tajima waved as he biked off back towards his house, and then Mihashi’s eyes met Abe’s, lips curling into a satisfied smile as he started walking down the road before Abe was even through watching it. He thought about bringing up Abe’s bizarre behavior, but the calm requiem of their bikes clicking as they walked next to them, footsteps echoing off the houses and the tintinnabulation of summertime wind chimes had his mouth sealed shut the entire way to his home, filling him with a warm happiness he wasn’t sure he could fit in his hands.

When his house came into view, he stepped forward a bit, taking the lead to locking his bike up. Mihashi followed suit, leaning his bike carefully against Abe’s and locking the two together, then gingerly taking his gym bag out of his basket and turning to Abe with a pleasant expression. “All right, hopefully Shun’ll be too busy with his homework to bother you too much like last time,” Abe grumbled, watching was a fond tug as Mihashi shook his head rapidly.

“I don’t mind! I like… being friends, with Abe’s family, so… because…!” he huffed out his cheeks in his earnestness, and Abe reached over, cupping Mihashi’s cheeks and squeezing them until Mihashi pouted at him instead. Abe snorted out in laughter, leaning over and lightly bumping his forehead against Mihashi’s and rubbing their noses together. 

“Come on. My mom’ll want to whine about how she hasn’t seen you in forever,” Abe said, pulling back when he felt Mihashi’s fingers twine in his shirt enticingly. It was tempting, to stay here in the shadows of his front porch and give Mihashi the kind of kiss he fell asleep tasting on his mouth the previous night, temping to grip that blond hair and show his pitcher just how much he wanted that connection, how much it had become necessary, almost, that his day didn’t feel like it had really started until his hand had touched Mihashi’s. But the novelty was still so precious, and it still felt like a little golden secret in his chest, locked up tight, that it was okay if he wanted to kiss his pitcher because Mihashi wanted to kiss him too, and he wasn’t ready for his family to know yet, not when there was still so much to explore, first. 

Like the way it felt different, now, when Mihashi toed his shoes off in his foyer, and how Shun thundered down the wood floor when he heard a second greeting after Abe’s, and when Shun gushed over how nice it was to see Mihashi’s smile once the blond had been swept into the kitchen by his mother, already with a spoon dangling from his mouth by the time Abe caught up. He turned to Abe and smiled around it, and Abe felt himself grimace at the sudden and almost painful explosion of affection in his gut. Mihashi just made a confused chirping noise, but before Abe could say anything, his mother had both hands on Mihashi’s shoulders, directing him firmly to the table to sit for dinner.

The kitchen exploded with noise when Abe’s father came in, greeting Mihashi with a firm slap on his shoulder and Abe watched as Mihashi desperately tried to keep up with the conversation, hand tight around his chopsticks. With a soft exhale, Abe put his own down, putting his right hand on his lap under the table as he reached out for his tea in his left hand. Then, as stealthily as he could, he reached over, gripping Mihashi’s left hand in his right and finding himself surprised when Mihashi didn’t jolt at the unexpected contact, but squeezed back, thumb tracing the side of Abe’s pointer finger. Abe risked more, looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and he caught Mihashi doing the same to him, feeling a smile spread on his face at the same moment that one bloomed on Mihashi’s.

Finally, Abe managed to extract Mihashi out of his family’s overbearing care for the blond, dragging him into his room and shutting the door behind the both of them with a relieved breath. He walked over to his desk, grabbing a pencil before digging around in his bag for the clipboard that had the notes for their practice game. He then sat down on the floor, leaning against his bed and patting the floor next to him with his palm when Mihashi stood, still hovering with a lingering discomfort even after months of coming over.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page with all of these,” Abe started, and Mihashi nodded while making a soft sound of agreement. He flipped to the second page, where they’d left off during practice, staring down at the diagram for the fourth hole batter as he tried to collect his thoughts. Then, he started off with his general summary, waiting for Mihashi’s quiet input with little hesitations and feeling increasingly irritable when they didn’t come. Finally, Abe stopped talking, and he felt Mihashi stiffen next to him, already knowing that something was about to happen. With a sharp exhale, Abe put the clipboard down on the floor next to him, the pencil on top, and then he looked to his right to see Mihashi staring steadily at the carpet, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt uncomfortably. “Okay, what’s up, Mihashi. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I…! I’m…” Mihashi started, fingers pulling at a loose thread until it broke. Then, he deflated, face turning towards Abe even if his eyes didn’t pick up as well. “I’m sorry, Abe-kun…”

“Why are you sorry?” Abe asked, finger tapping on his knee with impatience but knowing from a year of practice, now, that they  _had_  to do this, there was no getting around each careful step of Mihashi’s anxiety. There was no way to get directly to the root of the problem without cutting out the rest of the bullshit.

“I…! Because of me, we’re…!” Mihashi clenched his eyes shut, and Abe braced himself for a barrage of tears, but instead Mihashi squeezed his hands into fists on his thighs, whole body tensing up. “Because I… we’re having to do this now, and not… not in practice, so… A-and! I know, I  _know,_  Abe-kun needs… you need to work with H-Harada, I  _know_ , but it… I don’t  _like_ it, I don’t  _like_  seeing you talk to him, because… but… and I’m…!”

Abe sighed, reaching his right hand over and gripping Mihashi’s hair loosely, pulling until his pitcher was leaning into his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and arm mingling awkwardly but intimately with his own, and he stroked the blond strands between his fingers, rubbed at Mihashi’s scalp and let his cheek press against Mihashi’s temple. “Okay, first of all, I was helping Kamon with pitch calling,” he started, keeping his voice low and calming like he had learned was best when Mihashi was shivering like this. “Second of all, it doesn’t even matter, because third,  _you’re_  the ace, Mihashi, and I’m the catcher, and  _everyone_ knows it. So just… take some breaths, match them to mine.” 

Abe watched as Mihashi nodded, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against Abe’s shoulder, concentrating on matching their breathing cycles until minutes later, Mihashi’s shivering had stopped, and the tears dried from the corners of his lashes where they had prickled threateningly. Abe continued petting his head, rubbing comforting circles and murmuring soft praises into Mihashi’s hair, about how good he was at pitching, and how nicely he was calming down, and then, with cheeks that felt like fire, he told Mihashi how nice he felt leaning against him, how warm it was, and how nice his hair smelled, how it was different on him even though they used the same generic shampoo after practice. And slowly, Abe felt Mihashi react to him, felt the anxiety melt away, felt the fingers tangle in the hem of his shirt as Mihashi sought the same physical tether that Abe’s voice gave.

“Feel better now?” Abe asked, pressing his lips to Mihashi’s temple after he nodded, only to pull back when the blond tipped his head upwards, eyes wide and curious.

“B-but, why… was your hand cold…?” Mihashi asked, staring inquisitively into Abe’s face. “During the break, when you were…”

“….Oh,” Abe said, feeling his cheeks warm at the memory, and also at the silliness, after all, the thought that it had just been another day, really, and that perhaps he’d been the one projecting his nervousness onto Mihashi and reading into things that hadn’t even existed in the first place. It was stupid how embarrassing it felt to say it, but Mihashi was asking, and was intent on getting an answer if the way he wasn’t looking away was anything to go by, and, Abe thought, he really,  _really_  wanted to learn how to communicate with Mihashi. 

“Abe-kun…?”

“I was worried… about you,” Abe said at last. “You seemed like you were… I was worried you were thinking I was mad at you for something. Which I  _wasn’t_ , by the way.”

Mihashi blinked, head tilting in a manner so cute Abe felt a physical reaction. “I… know?” he said, and Abe blinked back at him, then snorted out in laughter, leaning his forehead against Mihashi’s. The blond was still obviously confused, and Abe breathed out his relief, letting his left hand reach over to Mihashi’s right where it was still wrung around his shirt, let their fingers mingle until they were holding hands, palms pressing together. Abe felt the warmth from Mihashi’s skin, felt the warmth of his own, and then felt Mihashi relaxing even more into him, subtly, but enough that Abe’s heart started to beat a little more quickly. 

“See? Fine now,” Abe murmured, watching as Mihashi nodded absentmindedly, eyes dropping down Abe’s face, down to his lips, his own parting on a soft sound. Abe leaned in the rest of the way, stomach twisting over itself at the gentle brush of their lips in a kiss so gentle it almost didn’t feel real, as fake as the galaxies of stars he was sure he could see on his eyelids. He shivered against Mihashi’s tender touch to his jaw, eyes opening but heavy when the blond broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to lick his lips with a tongue as slow as the drag of dull fingernails on Abe’s jaw. And then, Mihashi’s eyes opened, and Abe stared into liquid gold, as searing and sudden as the flames that stole his mind and burned his body at Mihashi’s next words, little more than hot air purred against his mouth.

“Can I stay the night?”


	11. Rainbow Palette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwoh here we are, thank you for the kudos and comments and apologies for the lateness as per usual LMAO ('sam you know you could just update on time instead of apologi - ' [i put a finger on your lips] shhhhhhhh.... shhhh)
> 
> beta chapter title: '[presses life alert]'
> 
> ed

Abe heard the words Mihashi said, comprehended them slowly, and then suddenly felt every cell in his body roar into a flash of heat from embarrassment and intense arousal so great, for a moment he felt dizzy. He blinked at Mihashi’s face where the blond was still so close, close enough to feel the flash fire on Abe’s whole face for sure, close enough that Abe’s tongue nervously licking his lips brushed Mihashi’s just a bit, close enough that there was no  _way_  he didn’t hear the thundering of Abe’s heart in his ribcage.

Mihashi Ren was going to be the  _death_  of him.

His jaw clenched as he warred with what to say in the split seconds before Mihashi would notice his hesitation and panic. The first thought of what to say was ‘holy shit’, and the most logical was something along the lines of ‘you  _idiot_ , we have practice in the morning’, but he closed his eyes and thought about it, for a moment, what it would be like to get his hands on Mihashi’s skin,  _really_  get his hands on him. He could remember exactly how it felt to have Mihashi shiver against him as he came, knew exactly what Mihashi felt like hard through clothes, wondered what it would feel like not barred through a heavy jersey. And then, Abe was really,  _really_  thinking about it, and practice in the morning was hours away when he would have a chance to recover, surely - but no,  _no,_ absolutely not, he couldn’t risk either one of them straining something right before the summer tournament, they needed their sleep, and - 

And, he’d waited too long, he realized, as Mihashi was stiffening against him, spine turning into a rod as he leaned back out of Abe’s personal space, their breaths no longer mixing enticingly together and his face going pale. “O-oh, I… that was… it, it slipped out, and… and now Abe-kun thinks I’m  _weird_ , and - !” 

Abe reached over, clenching Mihashi’s shoulder in a tight grasp before the blond worked himself back out of the comfortable relaxed state he’d worked so hard to get him  _into_. “No, no, it’s fine, it’s totally fine, you can stay, but…” Abe felt the heat burn on his face even worse, knew he had to be as red as a tomato at this point, and he swallowed, needing the protest more for himself than for Mihashi at this point. “We have practice in the morning, so, we can’t… do…”

Mihashi blinked curiously into his face, and Abe watched as what looked like all of the blood in his pitcher’s body rushed into his face, mouth opening around broken syllables that refused to turn into words before they all came out so quickly it was difficult to pluck them apart. “N- _no_ , I wasn’t…! I didn’t even  _think_  about - ! I’m not - ! Abe-kun thinks, you think I just want…! … _that_!” Mihashi wailed, hands reaching up to smother his face as his shoulders came up to his ears, and it occurred to Abe rather suddenly that he had definitely assumed one thing when Mihashi had meant another.

“Shit, Mihashi,  _wait_ , calm down,” he hissed, reaching over and pulling the blond’s hands from his horrified and bright-red face. “Hey, calm down. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re not weird. It’s fine, I’m sorry, I… I misunderstood. ” Misunderstood  _again_ , Abe thought with no small amount of irritation spiking in his system. Not that he could be blamed, though, what with how Mihashi had always been the one taking the next step forward when Abe least expected it, and - and, oh, Abe realized with an almost audible click in his brain. Oh.

Abe himself calmed down, hands slowly cupping Mihashi’s cheeks as he blinked into Mihashi’s tear-shimmering eyes, thumbs tracing to wipe away the tears as they fell while something settling in Abe’s chest, a gentle and warm thought. A thought that perhaps he had been underestimating Mihashi this whole time, that maybe even now he was still not quite trusting Mihashi to make decisions on his own, a thought that was a memory of their first training camp and Momoe’s voice  _trust is repaid with trust_. A silent decision. 

“A… Abe-kun?” Mihashi whispered, and Abe swore he was glowing.

“Yeah,” he responded, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against Mihashi’s, their foreheads bumping gently, and all at once, Mihashi exhaled all of the tension in his body, both of them still fiery red in the face but somehow coming to a mutual understanding without words, those words that always messed up everything. Abe blinked into Mihashi’s eyes, tracing each eyelash and noticing for the first time that this close, he could see each of the flecks of green in the iris that made Mihashi’s eyes look hazel in the day despite flashing pure gold sometimes, and then Abe closed his eyes, inhaled the smell of baseball and cheap shampoo and a little bit of the detergent Mihashi-san used that was different from the one his own mother used and all of those things that smelled like  _Mihashi_. He let his hands fall down to Mihashi’s neck, thumbs tracing lines on the softness of his throat, feeling the swallow before he let his palms flatten on Mihashi’s shoulders.

His breath evened out as he felt himself calm, felt Mihashi calm beneath him. Their breathing mingled between them, and then there was a soft kiss brushed against Abe’s lips, Mihashi’s smile curving against his mouth, and when he blinked his eyes open, Mihashi leaned back, smile still in place and the horrendous blush from earlier now a pleasant pink. 

“I’m going to call my mom,” Mihashi said, crawling away on his hands and knees towards his bag to grab his cell phone, and Abe nodded, lingering on the floor for a moment longer before he exhaled sharply and stood.

“All right. I’m gonna go tell my parents you’re staying,” Abe added, and Mihashi nodded, phone pressed to his ear as he waited for his mother to pick up her cell phone. With one last sigh that was somewhere between contentment and some sort of need to  _move_  he felt tickling just beneath his skin, Abe left his bedroom to peek into where his parents were both sitting in front of the television. “Hey, is it all right if Mihashi stays the night?” he asked, preparing himself for the worst.

And, the worse certainly came. “Oh, what’s this? You hear that, Misae? Taka wants to know if Mihashi-kun can stay,” his father said, arm curling around his mother’s neck to haul her into his side. “What do you think, should we say yes?”

“Of course we’re going to say yes, dear. When was the  _last_  time he asked? Probably scar him for life if you said no.” Abe felt his teeth grind together, but he kept his cool, knowing that he just had to submit himself to a few more moments of this before he was in the clear and he could go back to his room and maybe smooch Mihashi a little more before bed. 

His father laughed, nearly tipping over the beer in his right hand (the one beer he was allowed per day and probably not the shochu he’d asked for). “Watch out, Shun-chan! Taka’s starting to bring friends over! Who knows what’ll come out once he opens up that cave of a room!” 

Having satisfied that yes, it was okay for Mihashi to stay, Abe left the living room to spare what little bit of dignity and patience he had left. He did, however, take extra care not to stomp up the stairs like he really wanted to, keeping his parents in their happy sparkling mood so they would hopefully stay down in the living room and then go to bed peacefully,  _without_  barging in to give him a lecture about keeping his temper.

When he got back to his room, Abe saw Mihashi hang up his phone with an excited expression, one that broke into a smile when they made eye contact. “My mom said…! I can stay!” Mihashi reported, wiggling where he was sitting seiza and clutching his phone in his lap delightedly. He tucked his phone back into his bag, then stood up, shuffling his feet over to Abe with bright eyes when he gestured for Mihashi to follow. 

Abe led the way into the bathroom, opening a drawer and pulling out one of the spare toothbrushes before handing it to Mihashi to use. He started brushing his teeth, watching as Mihashi struggled to open the package with a blunt jab of contentment in his chest, the kind of feeling like he wanted this forever, standing next to Mihashi in their bathroom, getting ready for bed together and knowing that his face was going to be the last he saw before he fell asleep for the night. The thought caused his cheeks to warm, and he ducked forward, spitting into the sink in the hopes that Mihashi didn’t see it. 

Abe washed his face while Mihashi kept brushing his teeth, drying off with a towel and letting the blond do the same as soon as he was finished. He then shut off the light, peeking into his parents’ bedroom after knocking to see that they were also getting ready for bed and telling them goodnight. He shut the door once again, hollered at Shun, then went back to his bedroom to see Mihashi standing awkwardly in the middle. 

“Here, let me get the futon set up,” Abe said, going out into the hall and pulling one out from the closet. He dragged it into his room and set it up on the floor next to his bed, and was about to go grab a quilt from the closet as well when Mihashi’s voice caused him to hesitate.

“Do you have clothes?” the blond asked, plucking at his shirt and wiggling his toes in his socks a bit. Abe turned back towards him, walking over to him to size him up mentally.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem. Shun’s clothes might fit you better, except in the shoulders… You should probably just wear mine. Let me see if I can find something.” Abe tugged on one of Mihashi’s belt loops before releasing him and patting him on the head. Or at least, that had been what he’d  _intended_  to do, but the moment his palm touched Mihashi’s hair, his fingers instead curled around the strands, threading through Mihashi’s hair and appreciating the softness like he wasn’t sure he ever had, before. Mihashi blinked up at him lethargically, and then stepped forward the slight space that had been between them. His little diamond mouth opened around Abe’s name as Abe stepped back, hands reaching up to clutching in Abe’s shirt over his increasingly rapid heart-beat until Abe felt his back hit the wall next to his door. He paused, looking at Mihashi’s face and waiting for him to do something, but when Mihashi just stared up at him patiently, he felt himself relax a bit in time with a slow contentment on Mihashi’s face.

“Can we kiss?” Mihashi asked softly, and Abe huffed out, reaching his hands out to grab Mihashi’s sides, pulling him until their bodies were pressed warmly together.

“You don’t have to ask, you know,” Abe said, giving Mihashi a soft, quick smooch. “You can just do it.” Mihashi’s arms came up to encircle Abe’s neck, eyelids falling until his eyes were almost closed as he shivered beneath Abe’s caressing palms. Abe let his hands wander, taking in the curved wonder of Mihashi’s waist, the sharp angle of his hip bones, the small of his back that was achingly hot even though his thin shirt… He felt his breath pick up as he lingered, heard the hitch in Mihashi’s breath when he slipped a single finger beneath the soft fabric to caress bare skin. 

“I want… Abe-kun to do it,” Mihashi whispered, tilting his face up and opening his eyes to stare into Abe’s, who swallowed with the intense closure of his throat at Mihashi’s request. He pressed his lips against Mihashi’s, softly at first, the way they’d gotten pretty good at doing, and then he decided just to do what felt good, to experiment, see how Mihashi liked being kissed, what  _he_  liked.

Abe’s lips parted, and he kissed Mihashi’s lower lip, once, then twice, and then a third time, his tongue slow and thick as molasses as he let it trace lovingly over Mihashi’s lip with a curl of his fingers at Mihashi’s jaw. The blond quivered against him, soft wet sounds spilling into his all-too quiet room, mixing with each breath as Abe let his other hand slip under the shirt fully, fingertips tracing up each bump of Mihashi’s spine. Abe swallowed them all, each pant and gasp like whiskey on his breath as he slanted his mouth, arched just enough off the wall so that their bodies rubbed just a bit in tempo with their mouths. But then, Mihashi arched back, pressing Abe against the surface and causing a flash of excitement to spin dizzily through his head at the thought that Mihashi was able to pin him down. He felt the beginning sparks of heat deep in his gut at the images that suddenly barraged his mind, and he broke the kiss, breathing heavily against Mihashi’s wet mouth as the blond did the same to him.

He stood there, quivering in Mihashi’s arms, eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath and restart his brain from where it had decided that making out with Mihashi was one hundred percent exactly what he wanted to put all of his brainpower into doing. Well, not that it was  _too_  wrong, he thought, managing to open his eyes and look down at where Mihashi was still recovering himself, face flushed and happy, and holy  _shit_  Mihashi was gorgeous sometimes but  _this_  was something Abe wished he could take a picture of. Before he could recover even from that much, Mihashi’s eyes blinked open, pupils blown wide and rimmed in rich ancient gold, and when he smiled that smile that whited out Abe’s thoughts at his most coherent, everything fell apart,  _Abe_  fell apart, head coming forward to fall onto Mihashi’s shoulder, hands reaching to grab his pitcher’s shoulder blades and his whole body vibrating in awe at the fact that he was allowed to do this, he was allowed to feel these things, he was allowed - hell,  _encouraged -_ to touch… Everything until he had to close his eyes at the sheer brilliance of the happiness before him.

But he wasn’t alone. Mihashi’s fingers carding through his hair tenderly, body warm and secure against Abe’s, nose nuzzling Abe’s temple and lips pressing gentle, adoring kisses on his ear. Mihashi was comforting him, Abe realized, shivering again at the thought, and he stood straight, cupping Mihashi’s face as he brought their foreheads together for a few breaths to find once again the place where he stopped and Mihashi began. Then, he pushed off the wall, let his hands grasp Mihashi’s elbows, and with an exhale of all the happy tension in his body, he stepped over to his dresser to get the both of them into their night clothes for sleeping. 

“Here, put these on,” Abe said, handing Mihashi one of his shirts and a pair of draw-string shorts the blond could tighten hopefully enough to keep them on his thin hips. He then grabbed a shirt of his own, pulling off the dirty one he was wearing and tossing it into the laundry basket before pulling on the clean one. He shucked off his pants, and looked at the sweatpants, decided they’d be way too hot, then turned to see Mihashi struggling to cinch the pants onto his hips. He shook his head, biting down on the amused grin that pulled at his lips, and went back out into the hall to grab the quilt for Mihashi to use from the linen closet.

When Abe stepped back into his room, he saw Mihashi still fiddling with the ends of the drawstrings. He walked over, grabbed the strings and pulled, earning a squeak before he tied a loose knot while Mihashi stared at him with a hint of a pout. 

“Thank you,” Mihashi mumbled, fingers playing with the strands as he peered up at Abe. Then, with a quick peck to Abe’s mouth, Mihashi waddled over to his futon and all but fell straight into it, snatching one of the pillows off Abe’s bed and curling around it. Abe rolled his eyes fondly, turning off the light and walking over to bed himself. He reached over to set his alarm, then crawled beneath his sheet, lying on his back and staring at his ceiling. 

The whole house was quiet save for the sound of the fan in Shun’s room, and the muffled snores of his father through their door and his. Mihashi’s breathing was only barely audible, and through the cracked window, Abe could hear the wind chimes from the kitchen window downstairs in the slight breeze that made it bearable to sleep without a fan in his room too. He closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of the summer coming in and exhaling it, the smell of heat and humidity, the smell of fresh fruit and long days and verdant green, the time of year when it was time for baseball. His favorite time. They’d make it to Koushien this year for sure, he decided in the noisy silence of his bedroom. He was pushing himself to the depths of his strength, and he knew that Mihashi was too, that  _everyone_  was reaching deep inside themselves - not just to keep the regular slots from the new first years, but to make their shared dream come true. There was a real thirst in them now, a real possibility after such a successful year last year. The year everything had changed.

Abe opened his eyes again, eyes falling over to where Mihashi was lying down on the futon next to his bed, eyes closed but obviously not asleep. The year he’d met Mihashi. He studied Mihashi’s face, the way his hair fell into his eyes a bit, how he was curled around the blanket now, face buried in the pillow and a slight smile on his face. Abe swallowed, a sudden silly thought that maybe, what if Mihashi was smiling because he was smelling Abe on the pillow, and the thought had his stomach bubbling like champagne, sparkling and delighted. He opened his mouth, and before he could stop himself, he was speaking, so quietly he could barely hear the words in his own ears, but full of all the warmth that tickled his toes as the words formed in his mind and bloomed like a radiant spring garden in his chest. “Mihashi… I like you.”

There was a breath of air, and Abe passively studied Mihashi’s face, expecting nothing, sure that Mihashi wouldn’t have heard. But he saw as Mihashi’s smile filled with contentment, the heartbeat of nervousness where Abe wondered if he’d heard, and, “I like you too, Abe-kun,” Mihashi responded, voice as steady as the rounded gasp trapped in Abe’s chest. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure that Mihashi understood what he meant, that it was a different kind of like than the one for friends, a different kind of like than the one Abe had used over a year ago in the fields of Mihoshi Academy. But when he saw Mihashi’s hand twitch, his own moved, and their hands clasped in midair, hands filled with the promising heat of a baseball summer. 

The moment their hands had touched, he knew. Everything changed even more than it had earlier, and the thought that they were finally,  _finally_  on the same page after  _so long_  of trying to get to this point choked him.

“Oh my God,” Abe croaked, fingers tightening on Mihashi’s as his free forearm pressed over his hot, wet eyes. He felt the tears burning, felt Mihashi’s hand gripping his own like he did when Abe was checking his grip and he wanted to prove he could still pitch, tight and almost painful but exactly what Abe needed, that grounding strength to keep him here, lying in bed, a single fat tear rolling out as his chest filled with so much happiness and light he couldn’t breathe for it. “Oh my God.”

“Abe-kun,” a soft voice breathed into his ear, and Abe lowered his arm to see Mihashi kneeling next to his bed, a tender look on his face. Abe met his eyes, stared into them for two heartbeats of silence between them, and then he pulled at the same time that he scooted back, pulled on their clasped hands, pulled Mihashi forward until the blond got the message and slipped under the sheet. Abe released his hand and instead wrapped his arms around his pitcher, pressing his face into Mihashi’s hair and trying to remember how to get air into his chest while his stomach twisted around in boundless joy. Mihashi’s breath was hot against his collarbone, arms twisting around and legs mingling, and then Abe heard Mihashi say his name again, nudging closer, a different kind of warmth than the summer outside his window filling every piece of his existence.

“I like you,” Abe repeated, combing his fingers through Mihashi’s hair, smothering each of his quivering exhales into Mihashi’s blond hair and shivering against the nod Mihashi gave. His heart was so full, he was scared it would burst. “I like you, Mihashi.”

“I know,” Mihashi murmured, and then he was leaning more against Abe, pushing him very subtly, and Abe rolled onto his back as Mihashi followed, half-laying over him like a heavy blanket. “I like you too, Abe-kun.” It was no easier hearing the words the second time, and Abe swallowed past the knot in his throat as he felt the threat of tears again. He closed his eyes tightly, hands fisting in Mihashi’s shirt even as the blond draped over him even more, and it was then that Abe realized that he wasn’t the only one shivering, that Mihashi was also trembling in a quiet joy, and now that he was up close, Abe could see the bright pleased flush of Mihashi’s cheeks in the dark. Abe let his head fall back into his pillow, and he exhaled, one hand massaging Mihashi’s scalp and the other memorizing the exact topography of his back, memorizing the feel of Mihashi’s moist breath evening out against his throat and what it was like to close his eyes and smell the closeness of Mihashi against him. 

He wanted to stay awake as long as he could, memorizing exactly everything about this perfect moment, but even that thought disappeared into a melty, dreamy haze of sleep.

\----------

The next morning, Abe’s alarm went off and woke him with a start from a deep sleep. Before he could reach out to turn it off, however, the warm weight of Mihashi moved sleepily against him, and Abe felt himself flush from head to toe. Their legs were impossible to tell apart, one of Mihashi’s hands sleepily holding Abe’s hip, fingers slipped beneath his boxers, his head resting on Abe’s chest and a small patch of mostly-dried drool showing that it had been there for a while. Abe swung out his arm, hitting the alarm button and exhaling into his room in disbelief that last night hadn’t been a dream.

The thought that he would be quite content to stay for a good long time passed, but quickly following was the thought that if they ever wanted approval for this to happen again, they couldn’t mess up the first time. And so, with no small amount of disappointment, Abe reached to Mihashi’s shoulder to shake him awake. “Mihashi, wake up. Time for practice.”

Mihashi mumbled something incoherent, the hand on Abe’s hip gripping tightly and dipping dangerously far beneath the fabric as he used it to push himself up, leaning over Abe to blink blearily into his face. Abe stared, then felt the laugh in his chest and let it out as Mihashi fought to wake up to see what was so funny. “Wasso…?” Mihashi slurred, and Abe reached up, smooching Mihashi’s forehead and then sitting up with a renewed excitement for the day. Yeah, he could definitely wake up to that for the rest of his life and he’d be quite happy with it.

“Practice, Mihashi,” Abe reminded, and the blond blinked once, then twice, and then seemed finally to wake up as a smile curved his lips. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together in a gentle nuzzle, then slipped out of Abe’s bed, wobbling over to his gym bag. Abe watched, entranced at how low the borrowed shorts were on Mihashi’s hips and wondering, were he wearing his own shirt, if there would be a nice stripe of skin for Abe to see. Before he could wonder too long, however, Mihashi reached up and pulled the shirt over his head, and Abe got a lot more than that.

They both got up, got dressed, cleaned up, and fed, and then they were out of the house, bikes in hand and on their way to morning practice. It was no different than any other day, and yet it felt incredible, Abe thought, noticing for the first time how someone’s door number was a little askew, that there was a bird’s nest in one of the street lights, that the morning sunrise caught that flower box just so this time of morning and made it sparkle in the morning dew. He noticed everything between his home and the baseball field, but most particularly the way Mihashi snuck one last, lingering kiss before they stepped out of the dugout.

But that wasn’t all Abe noticed. On their first break, he found himself sitting with his arm behind Mihashi’s shoulders while they were sitting on the bench, the quiet possession startling him. And he noticed his eyes falling to Mihashi’s arm, his hands reaching out to take it and hold it tenderly, Mihashi’s eyes as warm and sweet as fresh honey as he told his pitcher to be careful with the summer games coming. He noticed how delighted he felt to share water cups with Mihashi on their water break, his lips touching the same place his pitcher’s had, how his knuckles dug into Mihashi’s shoulder in a loose massage Shiga-sensei had taught him. Abe noticed ten thousand little touches until he was absolutely sure that everyone on the team surely had to know that something was going on between them, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop.

Sure enough, Sakaeguchi came up to him in the afternoon during one of their breaks, a concerned look on his face that had Abe’s gut twisting in a knot. He watched the ginger look over his shoulder carefully, most likely making sure that no one was listening, before he spoke. “Hey, so, did something happen between you and Mihashi? You’re acting weird.”

Abe shifted from one foot to the other as one of his hands came to rub the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, I know, I’m trying not to touch him so much, but - “

“Wait, what?” Sakaeguchi interrupted, blinking at him. Abe paused as well, the two of them staring, and then Abe watched as Sakaeguchi covered his mouth to hide a snort of laughter, and then a grin, and finally his teammate was full-out laughing. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m serious!” Abe snapped. “What’s so funny?!”

Sakaeguchi straightened, wiping under his eyes. “Ah, Abe, I was asking because you’re usually hanging all over Mihashi. I thought you were avoiding him or something. But, never mind, I see what’s going on… heh… Congratulations! It’s about time, really.”

Stiffening as suddenly as if poked with a cattle prod, Abe felt himself turn searingly red, and with a sharp turn on his heel to put that chipper laughter behind him, he was unable to look his friend in the eye for the rest of practice, instead choosing to focus on the gold looking his way from the pitcher’s mound and savoring each moment of this burning hot bliss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: so i've gotten to the place where the way i'd planned this fic is wayyy different from where i'd want it to go now (and not in a reconcilable way) so! i'm gonna end it here! i might come back someday and write a part two or pick it back up again, but for now, this is it. so thanks everyone for the support and messages, and i hope you enjoyed this fic!! OuO


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